Understudy
by Cheryl W
Summary: "Vegas" Universe: Police Detective John Sheppard joins the Atlantis team, but thinks it's not him they really want, it's the other John, the hero John, Ronon's BFF, McKay's idol. Figures that, the sooner they realize he's not him, the better off they'll all be. No Slash.
1. Fate

Understudy

Author: Cheryl W.

Summary: Police Detective John Sheppard joins the Atlantis team, but thinks it's not him they really want, it's the _other_ John, the hero John, Ronon's BFF, McKay's idol. Figures that, the sooner they realize he's not him, the better off they'll all be. No Slash.

Author's Notes: This is set in the alternate universe of the "Vegas" episode. I have little one shots planned that I hope are entertaining. And none of these characters are from the show's universe, all from alternate universes. (And I'm not abandoning my other story SGA "Tinderbox" by any means, will continue to post that as I write it. I was just was in the mood to share this tidbit this week)

Now on with the story….

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Chapter 1: Fate

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In the middle of the episode, McKay makes a call….

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After an hour of debating with himself, Rodney made the call he didn't know if he should. "Don't get excited but….I just met John Sheppard. He's a police detective." Could have sworn there was a sharp inhale at the news, just like he was sure he was imagining the excitement in the man's tone, because this man didn't do excited. No matter that he himself had started the conversation telling the other man to not get "excited."

"You told me I couldn't contact him," Ronon shot back, trying to sound angry and not like his heart was racing in something like happy anticipation.

McKay did his irritated sigh thing over the radio. "Yes, I _know_ but he really found us. Well, actually he found a wraith here on Earth."

Every nerve Ronon owned tensed at the revelation and he growled at his team leader, "Did he get into it with the Wraith? Is he hurt?! You explained everything to him, right?"

"He's not cleared for that information and he wouldn't sign the non-disclosure," Rodney replied, wanted to drag this out and make it more a big deal that he had broken protocol, read John Sheppard in against every mandate they had in place. Crap, he couldn't even tell his sister he even worked for the Air Force, let alone dealt with the stargate and aliens.

But instead of waiting for Rodney's big reveal of his stunningly brave disobedience, Ronon was nearly shouting at him. "Are you telling me he doesn't know the danger he's in?! What the Wraith are capable of?! You better not have cut him loose. Is he still at Area 51?!" hope there and McKay knew Ronon would beam himself down there if he said Sheppard was still in the interrogation room.

"Contrary to popular belief, we don't kidnap people and hold them without cause."

Ronon growled out what Rodney had come to know as a Satedan curse. "Why'd you let him go! If he finds the Wraith again and doesn't understand what he's up against!"

McKay cut across the Satedan's rant. "Calm down. I broke protocol and briefed him on the Wraith, even gave him the 5 cent tour and let him see our resident Wraith."

Ronon slumped against the Daedalus wall in relief. Sheppard wasn't out there blind, had some idea what his enemy was capable of. It wasn't the best news but it was better than Sheppard thinking he was merely chasing down a human. "I want to talk to him."

Rodney snorted. "Right, of course you do. But …" here McKay's voice turned something it hardly ever was with Ronon: soft…" he's not your Sheppard, you get that right? He's not even like the other Sheppard I met. He's…not to burst your bubble, but he's kind of a screw up."

"A screw up that found the wraith you and all of Stargate Command couldn't," Ronon challengingly shot back, instantly defending this Sheppard before he'd ever met him.

"Maybe that's karma," Rodney said aloud what had been running through his head since Woosley came and said a Police Detective named _John Sheppard_ was working on a case with what sounded like leftovers from a Wraith feeding.

Ronon called it something else. "It's fate. He's meant to be with us, be a part of defeating the Wraith."

"Don't go getting sentimental," McKay scolded, though he himself had already gone down that road what with him telling Sheppard everything.

But Ronon, instead of being angry at McKay's comeback, of trying to deny it, he hoarsely confessed, "You just told me you met my best friend who I _lost_ a year and half ago. And you don't think I should feel something?!"

McKay was quickly trying to head off a train wreck. "No, not your best friend! Weren't you listening?! I just said he's very different!"

"I don't care. I still want to meet him."

Rodney caustically retorted, "I'm a little busy to arrange a play date for you."

Ronon punched the wall in frustration before he rested his head against it, felt like he was again on a precipice of falling apart or being remade. That was the knack of John Sheppard, he either broke you…or saved you. Had done both to Ronon. Saved him when he befriended him….and broke him when he died. And part of him knew he should run as far away as he could from this Sheppard, to not let things go the way they had before. That it was better to not meet with John Sheppard than to get attached, to …to lose him all over again. He didn't think he could bear that.

He could almost hear his John Sheppard chuckling in his ear, cajoling him. "What, the big bad Satedan's afraid of a little human connection? Doesn't know how to get in touch with his feminine side, well buck up, Chewie. You're not a runner on your own anymore and that means letting people get to know you, big guy."

Ronon knew he wasn't wrong with what his John would say to do, not to mention his own heart was aching to see even a glimmer of his friend again in this alternate reality's John. His voice was choked, nearly beseeching when he spoke again. "Rodney, don't….don't let anything happen to him."

Crap but Rodney had to swallow down his own emotions at hearing Ronon's. He covered it up by more bragging than confessing a moment later, "I put a tracker on him. Well, on his car."

"Thank you," Ronon gratefully replied cutting the connection then he slumped down to sit on the ground, back resting against the wall. Knew he was opening himself up to more heartbreak but ….his John, and this John, they were worth it. He trusted that with every fiber of his soul.

A few moments later, Teyla found him in that position, ran to his side, urgently demanding, "Ronon, are you ill? Hurt? Should I get you to the infirmary?" But she startled when he raised his eyes to hers and she saw the mixture of emotions in his features. "What has happened?"

"McKay met this world's John Sheppard today," Ronon announced and he couldn't help but chuckle in joy. "Leave it up to Sheppard to track down a wraith that the whole Stargate program couldn't find."

"He knows of the Wraith?" Teyla asked with a raised eyebrow of surprise.

Ronon gave an amused smirk. "Nope, Rodney said he's a police detective….guess he chased down the Wraith through a case of his."

"That is…astounding. Does he know…" she began but Ronon was already answering her.

"McKay briefed him, apparently without permission."

That information took a moment for Teyla to process. "That does not sound like Dr. McKay. He is very…what do they say, by the book."

"Yeah, Sheppard tends to bring the rebellious out in everyone," he said with a smirk and an arch of his eyebrow, racalling how many times his Sheppard used his full watt charm to get someone straight-laced to go a bit rogue.

"Will you meet him? This Sheppard?" Teyla asked hesitantly, wasn't sure that was the best thing for her Satedan friend.

"Course I will. It's what I've wanted since I stepped into your universe." Ronon couldn't believe she had to wonder at that! Every day he missed his friend's presence…and if this Sheppard was even 50% like his Sheppard…

"Yes, I remember," Teyla recalled with a smirk. "You demanded to speak to only Colonel John Sheppard…who none of us knew."

"Yeah, and the IOA wouldn't let me find him either," Ronon bitterly recalled, had paced the halls of Stargate Command the first time he was one Earth, aching to find his friend…no, the alternate universe version of his friend.

Teyla had sensed Ronon's frustration and sadness at not having that man in his life here even when she barely knew him. "But now he has found you, well, has found Stargate Command and Rodney."

Ronon smiled. "Fate, that's what I told McKay it was." But then he sobered, got that far away tone of remembrance Teyla had heard so many times before from him. "I wondered about that all the time, me meeting John…my John..." If he was meant to have a John Sheppard in his life? If he could get that gift again? Or maybe he only got one shot at the greatest friendship he'd ever known and he had destroyed it by trusting the wrong person. And this universe was punishing him all over again. That he had lost one Sheppard and wasn't worthy to get another shot to be with even a likeness of his friend.

"If you were supposed to have a John Sheppard in your life, if your original meeting was…fate?" Ronon nodded in agreement to her insight. Teyla treaded carefully with her next words, knowing they could reopen Ronon's barely scabbed over wounds. "My people believe that the people in our lives are a blessing."

"He was. Without him…" he broke off, rubbed his hand down his face, couldn't bear to finish that sentence, '_And without me, he'd still be alive.' _Kept that pain to himself, that guilt, that shame.

Teyla put her hand on his shoulder. "I know your sorrow is great but this…it is good news, yes?"

Ronon silently nodded, knew the good of the situation and the bad. "Rodney says….he's different than…"

"Yes, I expect him to be. Just like I am different and Rodney is different than your own. But that…it did not stop us from…becoming friends." But even as she gave herself that label, Teyla hoped she was not stepping over a line calling them friends.

Ronon swallowed because, in his universe, Teyla and Rodney weren't just his friends, they were his family. His brother, his sister. Wondered if this John could only offer him a pale shadow of the bond that his John had given freely, if he could endure the difference but knew he wanted the chance to find that out all the same. "Well, he's not so different that he can't find the greatest threat out there and face off with it."

Teyla smiled. "Yes, by your stories, that is a trait of your John. And of this one, too. I look forward to meeting him."

"Me too," and he had forgotten what it was like…to hope, to want something so badly, to allow himself to feel. That was the gift his friend had given him, not just freedom from a life of being a Wraith's pet runner, but to live again, to love others again, to have a home and a family to call his own. Suddenly he knew it was wrong that he had shunned those things since John's death, had not LET this McKay, this Teyla get close to him, that the fault was his that they were simply friends and not family. It was a dishonor to his best friend's life to shun the gifts he had bestowed on him.

'_Gifts I will honor again, Sheppard. I'll do better…just….be there somewhere in this other Sheppard, let some part of him recognize what we once had, that we were meant to be brothers, in any and every universe we meet in.' _Either way, he wasn't walking away, would risk it all, his heart, his soul to get even just the _chance _to have a version of John Sheppard back in his life again.

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TBC

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Thanks for reading and I hope there's some interest in hearing more from this universe.

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	2. Second Chances

Understudy

Author: Cheryl W.

Author's Notes: Just to clear things up, Ronon and the deceased John are **not** "our" Ronon and John. But it's kind of tricky because their realities mirror our Atlantis' teams in a lot of ways. And a great big hug to all those who dropped me a review and wanted more of this story!

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Chapter 2: Second Chances

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"**Ronon, I…I told him to not engage."**

"**Is he alive? Is he, McKay?!"**

"**I don't know. He found the Wraith…we targeted that location."**

"**The coordinates! Now!"**

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Beaming down to the coordinates Rodney had provided, Ronon found himself standing in a desert plateau with the wind blowing around debris from the explosion, flames still consuming the Wraith's hideout and numerous burning patches of earth and a car. Then he saw the body on the ground, not moving.

"No!" he shouted as he ran full out for Sheppard, dropped to his knees beside the man. His heart thudded into a painful rhythm at the sight of the familiar face, the trademark hair, the life in the green eyes that was dimming. And damn it, blood, lots of it. Putting his hand on the bullet wound and pressing, he screamed over his shoulder for the medic team.

When he looked back down at Sheppard, the man's pain dulled eyes seem to focus. "Fight, Sheppard! Fight!" he snarled, before his voice broke. "You're not alone, buddy. You can't go…can't run out on me all over again."

Then the medic team was there, shoving their way past Ronon to their patient. Shifting position but refusing to go far, Ronon knelt down at John's head, put a hand on John's shoulder, needing the contact as much as giving it. And whatever bravado he had that he could look at this John's face and not see the death of his best friend, to not latch onto this stranger and call him brother, to not rage against him being taken from him again, even if it wasn't _his_ John, crumbled. It was still a John Sheppard right there with him and that would always be enough for him.

Cupping John's face gently in his big hands, he peered down into John's eyes. "You don't know me but I know you. I'm not going to let you go so …. …you're going to fight and live and that's an order, Sheppard. That's our deal, you hear me?!" But like his own Sheppard, this one defiantly disobeyed his orders, went and flatlined.

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Piloting the Jumper to the Daedalus, Rodney kept running his last conversation with John Sheppard through his head. "Listen to me, I know what I said but do not engage. Do you hear me?!" What he left unsaid was: '_Don't be a hero_,' maybe would have gotten around to that dialogue if the cell reception hadn't cut out.

He wondered if the man would have heeded his order, even if he said those particular words. Kicker was…if Sheppard would have listened, backed down, didn't do whatever he did to delay the Wraith even those few scant _minutes_ from initiating that signal, the signal would have gone through and the Wraith attack on Earth would be imminent. Instead, Earth, well, _their_ Earth, was safe and John Sheppard was rewarded for his bravery with a bullet inches from piercing his heart and now his odds of survival …were not good. Fact was, he died out there in that desert, was only alive now because of Ronon Dex, the Daedalus beaming technology and the voodoo of Ancient, Asgardian and earthly medicine. But the human body could only take so much, least that was Dr. Keller's parting words to him as he ran for the jumper. She _really_ needed to work on her bedside manner.

'_Crap, if Sheppard dies, Ronon will take it hard_.' Though the Satedan from an alternate universe than their own had never met this version of John Sheppard, Rodney hadn't missed the catch in the usually emotionally stunted man when he had asked, no, more like implored Rodney to make sure nothing happened to this Sheppard, like it had to Ronon's Sheppard. _'And I failed. Worse. I unknowingly set everything into motion.'_

Rodney thought now that maybe it was the playback of that conversation, the sound of need in Ronon's voice that had him try and tell Sheppard to stand down, to not go after the Wraith…to not get himself killed. Then again, it could have just been the voice in his own head demanding that he get a chance at the friendship he was so jealous of between his other self and that universe's John Sheppard. A friendship he didn't have any reference to even compare to in his own life.

Actually, it didn't matter his reasoning for wanting to keep John safe. John Sheppard had gone off and done what he expressly didn't want him to: faced off with a well-armed, well feed, fanatically goal oriented Wraith all on his own, in the middle of the desert, miles from help.

Grimly, Rodney wondered if all he was ever going to get were those few scant hours with Sheppard. First insulting the man trying to intimidate him, then playing tour guide for their Area 51 Wraith museum and then there was that ill-advised comparison he made to the other Sheppard. _"I don't think there is much different between you and that other John Sheppard. I like to think you have the same strength of character."_ Rodney would go to his own grave blaming that "pep speech" for John's actions, that it had goaded the man to recklessly track down and confront the Wraith alone.

Crap, but Radek was right, he did talk too much.

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It was undignified, but Rodney ran to the Daedalus infirmary, came up short inside the doors at Ronon's defeated head in his hands posture in the chair designated as a waiting area. "No, no, no," and he latched onto the male nurse walking by, "Sheppard…the civilian beamed aboard he's…he's gone?!"

"We lost him in transit yes, but Dr. Carson revived him. He's in surgery now," the nurse supplied.

"Yes, yes, already knew that! What's the prognosis, his chances?" McKay demanded wanted more details, some sliver of hope.

"Dr. McKay, I am not his physician…"

McKay snorted, had played this game before. "Meaning you don't get paid enough to break bad news to family members." The nurse opened his mouth to say more but Rodney waved him off. He didn't need some guy in a spiffy scrub outfit to sugar coat things. Surgery was an iffy prospect in his opinion, medicine a voodoo menagerie of chicken legs, potions and rituals he didn't put a lot of stock in. With the nurse's departure, McKay was left alone with Ronon and it took courage for him to advantage toward the man, to croak out his apology, "Ronon, I'm…I'm sorry."

That got Ronon's head snapping up, his eyes blazing into McKay's. "He's not dead," a savagery to his denial, like they both knew the word "yet" was hanging unsaid between them.

"Right, didn't mean….that…" clamping his mouth shut, Rodney claimed the chair beside Ronon. And he forced himself to be quiet, which lasted three maybe even four minutes. "I…I almost didn't see it."

"See what?!" Ronon challenged, as if he objected to whatever McKay might say next.

"What you saw in him, the other him. What my other self saw in his Sheppard."

Ronon snorted, uncoiled his tall frame from its tense pose and leaned back in the chair, offered McKay a bittersweet smile as memories resurfaced, good ones. "He doesn't want you to see that. When we met," but his voice faltered and he looked away, gathered himself before continuing, "he didn't seem like a very disciplined soldier. Didn't strategically approach things…reacted…emotionally. Heck, I put a gun to his head, threatened to kill him when we first met and he basically said, your enemies are my enemies so let's be friends, and took me to his secret city of Atlantis. It wasn't logical…but it was all Sheppard."

McKay hadn't heard that story from Ronon before, his first encounter with his Sheppard. "Sounds a lot like this Sheppard, going back for the medic in Afghanistan…going up against a member of an alien race all by himself."

Ronon nodded in agreement, had already made the comparisons. After Rodney had admitted that John Sheppard was interrogated in Area 51, Ronon had read Sheppard's file now on the Stargate Command database. He found this Sheppard's backstory so close to his own John's but yet so tragically different.

At Ronon's silence McKay got up, began to pace the infirmary's small waiting area. "I should have never gotten him involved, read him in on…all this crap. I guess I just…..you liked your Sheppard and I liked the Sheppard I met with my other self and I just ….." Rodney fisted his hand at his side in anger at himself, his need for a John Sheppard in his own life that had lead him to drag this Sheppard into their world, _further_ into their world. "When he called saying he found the Wraith's hiding place…I …I was trying to tell him to not be like the other Sheppard I compared him to. Told him to not engage the Wraith." Needed Ronon to know he had tried to head this off, to not let it end this way, with Sheppard….hurt….maybe….dying. "I was going to tell him he didn't have to be a hero."

There was almost forgiveness in Ronon's quiet tone as his eyes held his team leader's. "McKay, my Sheppard never listened to that advice, doubt this one would have either."

But Rodney still couldn't imagine what that other McKay, that other Teyla and Ronon would think of him, of what he had done, had let happen to John Sheppard. A man they loved like a brother. Yes, not this John but …there was still his essence of honor in him, of genius and fearlessness and courage. The stupid idiot.

With a tinge of awe, he acknowledged, "He saved us. Our world. Same as your John and that other McKay's John."

"Yeah, he did," and there was pride and sorrow in Ronon's declaration.

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'_He's not my John Sheppard, I know that_.' But Ronon's head might know that but his heart…looking at the man lying so very still in the bed, it felt the same as when his best friend ended up hurt, worse, fighting for his life. Looked _fragile_, like John Sheppard so very rarely ever did.

'_Until he died in my arms. Until there was something stronger than his stubborn human will …like a sword through his chest'_

Ronon closed his eyes against the memories, the pain, though it didn't help. But opening his eyes, seeing _him_, it did. Restored a portion of what he'd lost, even if it was a "knock off" as McKay called the clones and their alternate universe's selves. '_Course he called me that too, a year ago when I got dropped into their universe, left my own behind willingly to save it. Though it was too late to save my friend I did it in his stead, what he would have done had he survived that long_.' And this universe's McKay, Teyla, they weren't his but they were close enough that he could find that threat of connection, but it was a thin link, somehow missing the strength it should…if this universe had a John Sheppard to bind them together.

Teyla had remembered it correctly, he had wanted to seek out Sheppard in this world but McKay forbad it, Woosley and the whole IOA forbad it, threatened to have him tossed in a prison instead of allowed on McKay's team if he sought out Sheppard's counter here. So he didn't but he had hoped…hoped one day this world's John Sheppard would find his way to him, to them, to the fight. And he had.

Looking at this John Sheppard, on the edge of dying, had been without life when we beamed him aboard the Daedalus, was only hanging onto life with the barest strand…Ronon cursed the wish he had made, understood how selfish it was.

And he wasn't the only one shouldering blame for wanting this John Sheppard in their lives. McKay had actually ran into the medical wing, demanded to know Sheppard's status, had apologized to him for Sheppard's injuries as if Sheppard's injuries were his fault. Then, as they waited for an update on Sheppard from Dr. Beckett, McKay had paced, seemed so unlike the calm put together man he was since Ronon had met him, was more like Ronon's own McKay in that moment that Ronon wanted to reach out and hug him for the sweet memory. But this McKay was not in a hugging mood, was agitated, not with the Wraith, but himself, for maybe goading Sheppard to go all reckless hero in some attempt to live up to other Sheppards McKay had bragged about.

Ronon almost smirked. So much for this Sheppard not being a lot like his own. Fatalistically heroic, doing the impossible, risking his own life carelessly for the fate of the world. It must be imprinted on every Sheppard that came down the factory line. And it just made Ronon want this Sheppard to live even more. Because it might not be his Sheppard but it might be close enough to fill that terrible void in his soul. The place that the other John still haunted, would always haunt.

That's what people you loved and lost always did.

So he reached out, slid his hand in John's and gave the limp hand a squeeze and leaned closer to the unconscious man. "You might not know it, but you're a fighter, Sheppard. It runs in your blood. You don't give up when others would, instead you fight harder. And that's what I expect out of you now. For you to fight. Like I said before, you don't know me but …I really want to get to know you." Suddenly that was true. He didn't want to dread finding out how this John differed from his own and he didn't want to feel renewed grief every time this John did something his John would have. No, he needed there to be differences, didn't want to simply replace his best friend for a spare. Yes, he wanted a chance to know that brotherly bond again but he also wanted to honor his friend's memory at the same time. Wished _his_ Teyla was there to talk to, the one who had lost John too, would know the pain and pleasure at this second chance he'd been given. But hadn't she already given her advice right before he stepped into the portal, left their world for this one?

"Ronon, we do not know what that other world holds for you but…I wish you happiness there, healing." And she had put her hand on his heart. "John would be proud of you, we all are. And if there's a John where you go…" her voice had caught on their leader's name, "…teach him to keep his left hand up when training with the bantos sticks."

"I will," Ronon had vowed, his own voice choked at even the idea of seeing another version of John Sheppard again.

Teyla had nodded, then bowed her head to his. "Now go before I do something unwarrior like and cry."

And her words had stayed with him as he gave up his world to save it, came to this world…only to find no John Sheppard waiting for him. Only then had he realized how deeply he had clung to the notion his friend, in some connotation, would be here, that he could get back what he had lost. A foolish dream bore out of his grief and guilt.

But now that dream…was before him. And he could not, would not lose it, lose _him_. Giving the limp hand in his another squeeze he candidly confessed, "Strange as it sounds, I need you…and it seems like you just might need me. So how about you stick around? You do that and I might even let you get me on a Ferris Wheel. What do you say, Sheppard, we have a deal?" At Sheppard's unresponsiveness, Ronon simply answered for him: "Right. Deal's set."

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TBC

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Thanks for reading my little AU story!

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	3. Cheap Knockoff

Understudy

Author: Cheryl W.

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Chapter 3: Cheap Knock Off

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John woke to a beeping sound, white sterile walls and a big man with dreadlocks, his head bowed in sleep, sitting by his bed. Moving his hand, John was surprised to find it clasped within the big man's paw. The small movement stirred the giant at his side, had his head swinging up and his eyes finding John's. A joyous smile turned the giant persona into a big excited teddy bear. "Sheppard, you're awake!"

John didn't have a comeback for the obvious and he didn't know where he was or who this guy was so silence seemed safer. But even had he wanted to talk, his mouth felt like he had licked the sand off the desert floor before he died…or not died. Wait…he thought he had died out there all alone. But that wasn't right either…he hadn't been alone. His eyes narrowed at the man at his side and he remembered him being there, with him, maybe in his final moments. His voice, his entreaty, the same big hand encasing his hand now had been on his face, grounding him. Then medical personnel were surrounding him, doing that medical stuff with him then…nothing. Figured his next layover: the Great Beyond.

"You were …there," he croaked out, holding the big man's eyes, question there in the words of '_why_'.

His hand was finally released and the man leveled a spoon at his mouth. Seeing it had ice on it, he obediently opened his mouth. As the coldness seeped onto his tongue, he felt like it wasn't on that desert floor anymore. While he enjoyed the ice like it was heaven, the big man spoke.

"Yeah, McKay gave me your coordinates."

Like that explained things. Suddenly John tensed, tried to sit up but the man's hand pushed him back down onto the bed. "The ….Wraith…his trailer…his ET message…did it…" he stammered, knew that mattered the most. Didn't know if he was waking up into a world being attacked by the Wraith because he had done what he always seemed to do: failed.

"You stopped him before he could complete the transmission," something almost like pride in the man's tone and the look he was leveling at John.

A depreciative smirk pulled onto John's pale features. "I didn't stop him. The drones blowing his tin can trailer up did that."

"We wouldn't have known where he was without you or had the time to stop him if you hadn't distracted him by getting shot and nearly dying." An edge of reprimand there mixed with the praise that John didn't get, either emotion, really.

"You make it sound planned out and heroic. Which I haven't been accused of being for a long time," John scornfully returned, didn't know what the guy's game was…anymore than he understood McKay's 'you have the same strength of character' bullcrap.

Instead of being pissed at John's deflection, Ronon smiled. "Consider yourself accused of it then."

Deciding to not get into the why he was suddenly being on the receiving end of compliments instead of high stacks of reprimands, John let his eyes drift behind the big dreadlock guy to take in his surroundings. Found everything was painfully sterile grey, not white, and more cylinder quarters than the sharp corners of every hospital he'd ever been in. "Where am I?"

"Aboard the Daedalus…"

"Aboard …like a ship…that floats on the water?" he slowly asked with a tinge of hope in his tone for a simple "yes" to his question because he _really_ needed something sane about now. Course expecting a boat near Vegas that wasn't a dingy in Lake Mead wasn't sane either but…

"Space ship, actually," Ronon supplied, wasn't known to coddle people from the truth and he wouldn't start now.

John noted that the big guy had said that like the statement wasn't ten shades of crazy. Course so were space aliens and one had kicked his butt to the curb. "I was afraid of that. That guy McKay…he's part of this."

Ronon nodded. Wanted very much to say, '_And now you are too_.' To link John to Stargate Command, to their mission, to him. But he wouldn't push. Yet. Remembered when the roles were reversed, when John asked him to join the Atlantis team, when he was the one alone and lost and needed a new family. He recalled the words John didn't say, that his friend quietly let him read between the lines. But this John wasn't his. Didn't understand his importance, to Ronon, to the mission, to Atlantis, didn't accept how heroic he truly was. That his actions out there on the desert, they had saved earth. He wanted him to get that but he didn't press the issue now, felt John was…fragile now, in ways his John never was. Course his John hadn't been broken by life in the ways this John had been.

Accepting that he was now hip deep in this twisty reality of space aliens, space ships and intergalactic threats, John decided to take things back to the simple stuff. Like why this guy he'd never met before was hovering at his side, had been there with him on the desert while he bled out and said…what he had. Though maybe he was half gone by then, didn't get the words right. "Not that I don't appreciate the company but…who are you and why are you here?

"Ronon Dex and I'm …" Ronon ached to claim a kinship to John but didn't. "I'm on Dr. McKay's team.

John shifted in bed, winced in pain at the movement but it was minor compared to what his stunt to try and sit up had cost him. Sighting on his visitor, he drawled, "'Kay. So what, you got the short straw of having to do guard duty?"

"I'm not guarding you." Ronon was a little affronted John assumed that before he reminded himself, this John didn't see himself as a hero, probably thought he was in trouble. For what…saving the world?!

But John scathingly drawled, "Rrrright… I'm not stupid. You don't want me getting more of a look around your space ship, becoming more of a security risk than I already am." Had been involved in enough black ops to know you never wanted to uncover a truth someone in the upper ranks didn't want you knowing. You just knew what they told you and that was the safest thing for you. And this, whatever the heck he was neck deep in, it was about as covert as you could get. He had thought they were going to throw him in some black site when he refused to sign the non-disclosure for that stuffed shirt guy Woosley while he cooled his heels in their interrogation room.

Suddenly, Ronon couldn't dispute John's assumption. When he had first arrived in this universe, he had been the one who wasn't trusted, was guarded around the clock, everywhere he went. At first it had angered him until he remembered being shadowed by guards when he first came to Atlantis by John's invitation, John's reply when he had said the guards weren't necessary. "_Yeah, I know that or I wouldn't have invited you here. But …let's just say my boss isn't so trusting …of my judgement, not your character."_

Meeting this John's suspicious gaze, he revealed, "If you weren't trusted, you wouldn't be here anymore, would have been transferred to an earth hospital." He didn't say that's what the new Atlantis commander, Dr. Weir, had wanted to happen. But he and McKay had venomously protested that idea along with Dr. Beckett who insisted it would greatly lessen Sheppard's chances of survival to not have Ancient and Asgardian medical advancements continue to stabilize his condition.

"I wouldn't hate that, you know. Being on earth.." John confessed, wanted off this sci fi ride. Maybe take a week long bender and convince himself it was all heat exhaustion, that he had gotten lost in the desert and hallucinated all of this.

'_I would hate it,' _Ronon thought, sick at the idea of John leaving his side_. 'I got you back…a version of you and I'm not losing you again. Not to your injuries and not to let you slip back into 'civilian personnel I'm prohibited to associate with.' _That was how it was_ s_tated in the Stargate Command codes McKay had made him memorize so he wouldn't track down this world's John Sheppard.

Instead of speaking of the personal, Ronon stated the practical. "You would be dead right now if they had moved you to an earth hospital. The doctors here have medical practices and equipment that kept you alive." (That's what he had convinced himself of the long three days John's life had teetered on the brink of death, that they would save him. _Had_ to.)

John thought that was probably some military bullcrap so he didn't rant and rave about being held in military custody. "Sounds expensive," he quipped before that statement sunk in. "Great …and me having up and quit my job and now being without medical insurance. They say timing is everything and trust me, they don't have that wrong." His timing had been shot to crap seven years ago on a doomed rescue mission in Afghanistan, and it hadn't gotten any better in the reconvening years.

"Timing…" Ronon said the word like he didn't know the meaning until he gave an example John wasn't expecting. "Like you tracking the wraith in time to stop his transmission."

John let that go unprotested, was suddenly tried to death of treating that like it was some hero move when all he got was a bullet to the chest and bleeding out in the desert. The drones, they stopped the transmission. Hadn't he already confessed that?! "Say I believe that you're not my guard…then why are you here?" Seeing the way the tall guy shifted uncomfortably in his chair with the turn of the conversation, John made a leap of logic. Said with resignation and a little ticked off heat, "Oh. Let me take a stab in the dark. You knew another _version_ of me. Think that makes us…what, _buddies_?!"

Ronon fought back a flinch at this John's rebuke of what he had been offering, wanted to believe existed between them, some…bond, some thread of the friendship, no, _brotherhood_ he had shared with the other. Knew the truth had to come out sooner or later, might as well stop hiding it. "He was my leader, my best friend, my _brother_."

John had always been a good reader of people, heard the catch in the man's declaration now, knew something had happened to this guy's version of him. Something not good. He bluntly asked anyways, "I'm getting the vibe he's not running around this universe, won't be stopping in for a face to face clone chat."

"He wasn't from this universe, was from mine," and Ronon tried to cover up his pain with gruffness, it usually worked to keep everyone from getting bold enough to ask him more personal questions.

There was a warning in the man's tone that John should have noted but he was stuck on the "this universe" glitch. "Yours…as in…this isn't… Wait, you're not this universe's Dex. Crap, I knew I hated Sci fi stuff, makes everything sound….9 types of crazy."

Even on the strong drugs Sheppard had put the pieces together and Ronon felt pride surge in him. No matter what McKay said, this Sheppard was so much like his own, making mental leaps as quick as a lightning strike on Satedan. So if the man was up to asking…he had to be up to hearing the truth. "There was a rip in the space time continuum, I left my universe and came here to stop the fallout."

John processed that bit of craziness, almost hated that it made sense to him, brought to mind another question. "So you've got another …_you_ running around here?"

Ronon hadn't given that much thought, had been too obsessed with finding this world's John to even contemplate bumping into another Ronon Dex here. "I don't know. I'm not from earth. I'm from the Pegasus galaxy, planet called Satedan."

John's eyes narrowed at the news, the continued pile of truths he wasn't sure he was up to processing. "You are a space alien?" Guy didn't look like he thought they should but then he thought of the Wraith..his eating habits. Remembered sitting propped up against his Camaro, out of ammo, the Wraith standing over him…pulling off his glove. In that moment, John knew he'd rather die by the bullet wound in his chest than get the life sucked out of him. Putting that disturbing memory into a deep corner of his mind, he eyed up his visitor with a bit of trepidation. "But you're not, you don't…," rubbed at the palm of his hand where he saw the wraith feeding mouth.

Ronon smirked. This John was so naïve it was almost funny. "I'm human, same as you."

John nodded in relief, glad the eating habits weren't a trait of all those from the Pegasus galaxy. "So you left your universe…on some save the world mission?" When the man didn't confirm or deny this, John surmised with biting resentment to his words, "And I'm guessing you can't do a return trip. Can't get back to your Sheppard, so what, I'm supposed to be a cheap knock off wing man for you to hit the bars with?!" Crap but now he hated two Sheppards in two different universes for setting the bar so impossibly high and out of his reach. '_And just think, a day ago I didn't know there were other me's in other universes to make me look even more of loser than I already know I am_."

Ronon felt gut punched at John's rejection, at his insight, shamed at his own desire for maybe just what this John had said: a "cheap knock off" of his best friend. He wanted to strike out, hit something…someone. "My Sheppard's dead," he growled, got up and left the medical wing but faltered against the wall when he was out of sight. Wanted to go and ached to stay, didn't want to let this John out of his sight and yet…now it hurt…seeing him, wanting….what this John couldn't give him. This was a John Sheppard but it wasn't his best friend…maybe this John would never even allow him to be his friend. He had been so caught up in what he wanted…it never occurred to him that this John would out right reject him, his offer of friendship. Crap he had never had to earn his John's friendship, had been given it freely, even undeservedly.

'_So I earn it this time. Don't give up until I get it. Don't let him give up on me…or himself_,' he vowed and he wouldn't fail, not this John, not like he had his own.

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TBC

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Thanks for reading and for those so cherished words of encouragement some of you have sent to me!

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	4. Expectations

Understudy

Author: Cheryl W.

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Chapter 4: Expectations

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At the big guy's pissed off departure, John wheezed out a curse. '_This is why I don't bother to say much…I always manage to say the wrong thing_.' But if he was honest with himself, his words weren't random. He was aces at pushing people away, especially the ones stupid enough to believe he could be better than he was. Now he had this guy who thought he could make up for someone he'd lost, someone he had considered a _**brother**_?! Come on, his own brother hated his guts and, genetically speaking, David was supposed to actually like him. No way could he live up to this guy's Sheppard. Figured it best to dissuade the guy from thinking that from the start. Fail people right off the bat so they know what to always expect out of him, that was the way to go. That strategy had worked pretty well the last few years, nipped any expectations in the bud that he'd be anything but a loser, was clearly someone to NOT count on.

Now he had complete strangers saying things like he had 'strength of character', accusing him of being heroic. Once he had thought he was both those things…and look how that bit of pride had turned out. Twelve people dead, good people, people who didn't have to die…if he had not tried to have "strength of character" be a "hero". No, he wouldn't fall down that rabbit hole again, people died when he started believing he could be anything but a screw up. He knew what he was…even if these people didn't. He wasn't their Sheppard and the sooner they got that, the better off everything would be.

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A few minutes later, when John's doctor, Dr. Beckett, made his appearance, he turned out to be…kind. It was unexpected and … exactly what John didn't want. Some gruff saw bones would be easier to take. Like the doc who patched him up after his Afghanistan's fubar. He could read that doc's mind, knew he hoped John would do the world a favor and succumb to his injuries. That _hate,_ he absorbed like welcome poison but this doctor…his gentle accented tone, the concerned way he looked at him, tutted over his bullet wound, warned him of his touch before he touched him as if he knew PTSD might be kicking in, it was wrong, undeserved. What no one was putting together was he'd been skipping town with the Wraith's loot, wasn't out all that time searching to take down the alien, stop some alien invasion. The doctor's unexpected words snapped his attention back to the present.

"He's been by your side non-stop since you've come out of surgery, actually never left the waiting area since you were beamed up from the surface."

Knew they were talking about the tall guy, Dex. "He has me confused with someone else."

"Maybe," Dr. Beckett noncommittally allowed. "Ok, easy son, I need to turn you a bit," then gentle hands helped him roll to his side. "Deep inhale, now exhale." There was the press of stethoscope to his back as he did the breathing as instructed, winced as fingers press on his bruised ribs thanks to his Starkey & Hutch slide across the roof of his car. When he was moved again onto his back, the doctor's hands on his shoulder and hip aided him. Then the doctor was giving him that direct eye contact and John braced himself for some medical jargon on his condition that he probably wouldn't understand, instead the man was stuck on talking about his previous visitor.

"Ronon's not…" Carson tried to find the best way to say what he wanted to convey to the injured man without being unkind. "How do I say this….He's not a very warm and fuzzy person. His specialty is killing things. He doesn't talk to anyone besides his teammates, Dr. McKay and Teyla. And even with them he's…." Carson's eyes brightened as he got the right analogy, "My one professor in college would say he's '_more standoffish than a porcupine'_."

"Not everyone needs to be Mr. Rogers," John grumbled, didn't know why he was defending the big guy but it just came out of him.

Taken a bit back by his patient's defense of Ronon after their not so amicable parting, Carson stammered a bit nervously, "Ah…. guess not." Checking the man's bullet wound's entrance, he couldn't convince himself to not say what he had intended to. Made himself busy looking at the man's chart when he continued. "I always thought everyone needed someone. But with Ronon…I was starting to believe that he was the exception to that rule…" Here he looked up, met Sheppard's interested gaze. "Until you showed up here. I've seen another side to him. He cares about you. I'd go so far as to say…he needs you."

"No, he doesn't," John irritably rebuffed. "He wants me to be his dead BFF. No one needs me." He'd made sure of that, he wouldn't let someone else down again. That's why he tried so hard to get into the Homicide department, he couldn't do more wrong to a person who'd already been murdered.

"Way I hear it, without you, we'd have a Wraith invasion of Earth on our hands." It was all the buzz in Stargate Command, how this civilian had practically single handedly stopped that disaster. And Carson himself knew the man had done it at great risk to himself, thought he wasn't going to get the chance to praise the lad's bravery when Sheppard was rolled into the Daedalus infirmary coding. It was a hard fight to get him back, harder still to keep him, felt like the lad's heart wasn't vested in the fight for survival.

"Not all scuttlebutt is true, doc," John muttered, wished the fanfare could just get snuffed out.

"Ay…and some of it is," Carson refuted, didn't understand why the man would want to deny something as heroic as saving his planet. Carson sure would be crowing from the rafters if he were in the lad's position. "Either way, true or false, you being similar to Ronon's friend or not, I'm warning you straight up: Ronon doesn't give a fig what anyone thinks, does what he sets out to do and changing his mind, I've never seen it done. So I think you better accept that if the man cares for you, it's a done deal."

That had John tilting his head in surprise at Carson, had that word "deal" spinning in his memories. "Deal?"

Carson chuckled. "Sorry, was using one of Ronon's favorite words."

And that sharped John's recall, mentally replaying the word "deal" into Ronon's low timbre, it came back to him.

"_.. you're going to fight and live and that's an order, Sheppard. That's our deal, you hear me?!"_

" _you stick around? …. What do you say, Sheppard, we have a deal? Right. Deal's set."_

No, no, no! This Ronon guy was taking his personal lookalike qualities to his dead BFF way too far! Hadn't the guy ever seen an Elvis impersonator in his life?! John, he'd passed hundreds of them in his time in Vegas. They looked like the king, dressed like the king, had a twangy drawl like the king, might even kinda sing like him but **none of them** _were_ the king. Any more than he was Ronon's lost John Sheppard.

Seeing the look of distress on his patient's features, Carson laid a gentle hand on the man's uninjured shoulder, drawing his attention. "Hey, you alright, lad? Pain getting too bad?"

"Pain's fine," John replied, liked pain, same as he liked drinking and staying awake all night gambling. Liked anything that kept him from rooting around in his memories, of hearing the screams of the dying…the ones he had condemned to death by thinking he could save someone, save her.

The doctor looked at him like he didn't quite believe him about the pain level but then he let it go unchallenged. "Alright then, think it's time for you to get some rest. Your body's been through quite the trauma, it'll take some time for it to heal but it will."

"Am I doing that healing here or somewhere else?" John asked, pretended his gut wasn't suddenly churning at what the future held. Crap he had stumbled onto a seriously covert program, was on their freaking **space** ship, no way were they going to let him slink away with all that he knew now. That was part of why he took the Wraith's money and made a run for it, didn't want Dr. McKay to realize his blunder in letting him go, that his superiors like Woosley would have ordered him to lock him up so they could keep the alien crazy stuff under wraps.

The doc looked truly stumped at his question. "Honestly, I don't know. They haven't told me their plans for you."

And wasn't that ominous sounding: 'plans for you.' John had known a few soldiers who had opened their mouths about a black op and got sent to a black site for a few weeks to learn the penalty for loose lips. And that was about normal war stuff, _Earth_ stuff…with what he knew now…they'd probably shove him in a black site and throw away the key if they feared that he was a security risk.

Crap, but he should have kept driving to Mexico.

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Haven gotten word that Sheppard was out of danger, even awake, McKay headed to the Daedalus' infirmary with something akin to a jaunty step. It was certainly now a case of all's well that ends well (at least for their universe and right now he kept his focus on that). So he was basking in that victory…not to mention the positive outcome to his conversation with General O'Neill five minutes ago.

Internally he was practicing his '_We'd like you to join our team'_ speech. Team being Stargate Command, hopefully the Atlantis expedition and his gate team specifically sometime down the road. Though he hadn't officially gotten the green light to offer Sheppard a position on Atlantis, the new leader Dr. Weir was being hard headed about his civilian status…which was ironic considering she was a civilian herself. But in reality, Rodney knew it wasn't Sheppard's civilian status she was opposed to…it was his past: The twelve dead, the dishonorable discharge. Things Rodney couldn't change, couldn't whitewash but having met John, him risking himself to stop the Wraith sending that beacon home…it should assuage some of Sheppard's sins, did in his eyes.

'_But apparently not in Weir's eyes_,' he bitterly reminded himself. So General O'Neill was allowing him to offer Sheppard a place in the Stargate program…but Weir had the last word on who came to Atlantis. He didn't know how he'd convince her to change her mind but he was determined to. They needed John Sheppard on Atlantis. Carson had tested the police detective and he had a strong presence of the Ancient DNA just like Ronon's Sheppard and the other John Sheppard McKay had met, so there was that. But that wasn't really what was driving McKay's desire for Sheppard to get the Atlantis posting, I mean they could synthesize the gene. '_But you can't synthesize heroism, bravery or patriotism_,' which John Sheppard had in spades so a man with those traits was good for the expedition. And personally…Rodney still wanted a shot at what his counterpart in that other universe had, what Ronon had had and mourned so badly he was clutching onto this universe's Sheppard with a two fisted grip: a friendship, a brotherhood with John Sheppard.

'_Don't get ahead of yourself, you've got some work to do before you pick out BFF keychains,_' he sarcastically snarked to himself. '_First you have to get him instated into the Stargate Program, then you have to convince Dr. Weir to let him join the Atlantis expedition and then…you can figure out how to get Sheppard to actually like you, think you're not a terrible guy, especially after at all the crap you gave him in the conference room when you met him_.' Because replaying his side of that conversation, it kind of made him ill…with himself, not with recounting John's sins and failures. He had been harsh, no, cruel with the man…and now he wanted him to roll out the friendship red carpet for him. '_Crap, Rodney, you just had to go in their trying to impress him with your tough guy act, didn't you?! Had to be all cocky like you learned all the knowledge about him, including the gum he favors, just since Woolsey reported it was a Detective John Sheppard on the Wraith case.' _

Which wasn't true, he hadhad all that info long before, a year before, when Ronon arrived, talked about John Sheppard like he was God's gift to the Wraith fight…and then he met a version of John in that other universe and curiosity got the best of him. He dove into all John Sheppards that his own universe offered and when he found the real one…he learned everything he could about him…and no, it wasn't stalking it was….monitoring….just in case Ronon got his wish, that they got the OK to tap this Sheppard for service in the Stargate Program, in case, well, what happened yesterday happened. Without Sheppard's solo standoff with the Wraith, being shot, consequentially _dying_ thing of course. Yeah, in his finding Sheppard scenario, Sheppard didn't get hurt when he introduced him into the world of the stargates. Then again, he wouldn't have planned Sheppard to discover the world of stargates all on his own either by tracking down an earth roaming wraith.

Suddenly that made him uneasy, that John Sheppard wasn't fitting nicely into his formulas, was good at being unpredictable, might not meekly fall in line with how he perceived the future to go. The possibility had him slowing his entrance into the infirmary to a thoughtful stroll. '_With this version of John Sheppard, you don't_ _even know how the next __five__seconds__ will go_?!' Rodney amended. As if to prove how feasible his worries were, when he boldly entered the curtained off area Sheppard was behind, he discovered that the man was mid jail break. His IV was out and leaking on the floor and he was sliding off the bed to land his feet on the sterile infirmary floor.

Rodney's intentions to scold the man were cut short when Sheppard's legs buckled and the detective started to collapse onto the floor. Diving forward, Rodney caught John around the waist mid fall, had to carry all of Sheppard's weight for a few seconds as the man limply fell against him, his head bowed down on his shoulder, his breathing heavy, pained. "I got ya, I got ya," Rodney reassured, felt a strong surge of protectiveness zing through him he was not familiar with, had only experienced the like once before…after Sheppard's interaction with their pet Wraith back in Area 51.

Not trusting himself to hold Sheppard afloat too long with only his own strength, McKay called over his shoulder "Need some help in here!" an edge of panic in his tone he didn't think would do his reputation any good. But he would make repairs to that ding later, once he was sure Sheppard hadn't damaged anything in his ill-conceived bid for freedom. Then a male nurse popped into the curtained off area, helped him lever Sheppard up to sit on the side of the bed. Rodney was contemplating how to maneuver Sheppard to a prone position when the nurse none to gently jerked Sheppard's legs onto the bed, causing John to give a grunt of pain as the jostling unbalanced him, nearly had him toppling back onto the mattress.

"Easy! He's not the G.I. Joe doll you toted around in your backpack when you were a kid!" Rodney shouted, luckily still had his arm around John's waist, managed to gentle the wounded man's descent, ease him onto his back on the infirmary bed. Rounding on the nurse, he bit out, "Do something you hopefully can't screw up and get his doctor. NOW!" With a bob of his head the nurse disappeared around the curtain. Turning back to Sheppard, Rodney was about to ask the man how much pain he was in, but Sheppard spoke first.

Trying to shift into a less excruciating position on the mattress which, in turn, only caused him more pain, John weakly boasted, "Don't need my doctor. I'm fine." He didn't _want_ more concerned, kind words from the Scottish doc, wanted to be out of the medical ward, desperately wanted off the "ship" he was currently being held on.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Rodney challenged, "Really, you call that being fine, you collapsing."

"I like to start my mornings out slow with a little yoga. This floor was the right space I needed," John quipped.

McKay snorted. "Yes, I am sure you could have done a stellar Tree stance."

"Was actually going for a Eka Pada Koundinvasana II before you interrupted me," because OK, John had dated a Yoga instructed back in college, had told her pigs would fly before he'd ever try to force his body to do that painful acrobatic pose.

Confusion stole across McKay's features, clearly telling John the Doc had no idea what he had just said. If he were in a better mood, wasn't in pain, he might have felt some tinge of satisfaction at that. As it was, it just made him grumpier. '_Seems no one gets me around here_." They couldn't even get the 'stay away from me' vibe his fellow cops had been able to read a mile away. "Let me guess, you're here demanding I sign that non-disclosure agreement. Fine, got a pen? Then can you drop me off at the nearest galactic rest stop?"

"Oh, sure, next Sheetz we come to we'll beam you down," Rodney sarcastically drawled even as his nurturing action of pulling the sheet up to cover Sheppard said he had no intentions of dropping the man off anywhere.

Flinging that same sheet off him, John countered Rodney's suggestion, "Make it a Walgreens…beer's cheaper." And yeah, ok, he knew he was pushing McKay's buttons but it eased some of the helplessness choking him, the frustration of having every choice he wanted to make being blocked. "Now can you get me some pants…like my boots back too. I got them worn down just right." Shifting onto his side, he began looking around the curtained off area for a closet, for someplace they could have stuffed his belongs. McKay stepped to the right, purposefully blocking his search grid.

"You died!" Rodney nearly shouted, that horrific fact unforgettable to him, didn't see how Sheppard could overlook it. "So stop trying to get out of bed and rip your stitches or do worse damage to yourself. You might have already with your stupid jail break attempt."

At the scolding reprimand, John's eyes flew up to McKay's and his voice was a deadly challenge, "What do you care?!" He was so _sick _of the concern, the careful handling, none of which was even about him. Was about the other Johns.

Stunned at the venom in the man's question, McKay stammered, "I….I…"

"Right, you **don't** care, so just leave me alone," John snarled, wanted that most of all, to be alone. Alone in his pain, in his confusion, in his reeling world that now included honest to goodness alien invaders.

Though Rodney shifted on his feet, he didn't flee. Quietly, almost gently posed, "Would it be so horrible if I did care, if someone cared?"

"I don't need someone to care!" John railed back, didn't want that burden, ever again. For someone to care about him…for him to care about someone else. He was done with all that. Forever.

"Why, because you don't care about yourself?" Rodney perceptively demanded, pissed that Sheppard's response was to sink back on the bed, stare at the ceiling but not offer up one single protest to his insight. "After everything I told you, seeing the wraith up close and personal, knowing their strength, that you were no match…why did you engage him!?" Because that was the question ping ponging around in his head ever since Sheppard had called him, said he had found the Wraith, ever since he had gotten the video feed from the drones, the medical report from the Daedalus. All proof that John had unequivocally engaged the Wraith…just as unequivocally lost to it.

That question had John's eyes swiveling to McKay's, thought the answer should be obvious. "I thought him playing ET phone home with his buddies in that other galaxy might be worth a chat with him."

"He shot you! NO, he _killed_ you!" hated that Sheppard was being flippant when he had freaking died out there in the desert because of his decisions to "chat" with the wraith.

"Yeah, wel, he** didn't** kill me," John brazenly corrected in a bit of a huff, didn't expect the reaming out from McKay, in that moment kind of missed that Dex guy's hero worshiping of his actions.

But McKay was shaking his head, pointed at Sheppard, as his voice rose, "No, he **did.** You were dead, Sheppard. Dead. If not for the Daedalus beaming you on board, our extraordinary medical team, our unconventional treatments…"

"What do you want? Me to settle up my copay?!" John snarkily cut across McKay's rant.

"I want you to admit you went on a one way trip and you didn't care!" Because Rodney knew this John, he wasn't stupid, was the direct opposite, would have known his odds of survival…that he really didn't have any odds for surviving his confrontation with the Wraith.

At McKay's demand, John pulled on a 'don't give a crap' smirk. "Guess I wanted to go out in a blaze of glory…course you screwed that up for me, so thanks for that."

McKay looked close to physical violence, settled for another yelling fit. "Blaze of glory! Really original, all you flyboys have that mentality!?"

"Not a flyboy!" John bitterly corrected, quietly tacked on, "Not anymore."

McKay knew that was his opening, the very best he could ask for. He straightened his stance into the one holding the power in the room, regally offered, "That could change…if you wanted it to." Felt a flicker of guilt that the word "leverage" was merrily and grimly floating around in his head as he used what Sheppard wanted most in the world against him.

The offer knocked the air out of John's lungs like a kick to the chest. Had him fighting back excitement, telling himself it wasn't possible, what McKay offered, what he _wanted_. "Even some offbook helicopter service wouldn't hire me after the Air Force burned me."

McKay's smile was smug as he realized he had gotten John's full attention. "I have something a little more….exciting… in mind than you ferrying tourists who want a cheap, illegal flight."

Suspicion crept into Sheppard's tone, "Exciting how?"

"Another galaxy, flying a spaceship…that exciting enough for you," Rodney knowingly dangled a dream come true to any pilot but didn't go too far, wouldn't promise Sheppard could fly Atlantis, not yet, not until he swayed Weir into letting Sheppard join their expedition.

"You're talking about joining the fight against the Wraith," John realized, stunned at the offer, of McKay…or anyone wanting him to be at their side in a combat situation.

Dodging the promise that it would be wraith and not some Milky way villains Sheppard would be tangling with, Rodney put on a salesmanship persona as best he could manage, "I'm talking about being able to use your skill set to do some good…like you did out there in that desert."

McKay's reference to what happened in the desert soured John's gut and sliced through his happy delusion that he could fly again. That that was really the option on the table. "Skill set…getting shot and nearly fed on and apparently _dying_, you mean that skill set?" he acridly challenged, pissed that he had gotten drawn into McKay's trap, thought for even a second that he could get back in the sky again. That was a pipe dream, nothing more. Was bait McKay was fishing with but he couldn't be fooled by it. "Apparently you have low recruitment standards."

Not deterred, Rodney countered Sheppard's insinuations with an entirely different take on the happenings in the desert. "If not skill set, then heroism. Unflinching in the face of unsurmountable odds, achieving victory over defeat when the consequences were of an apocalyptic scale."

John couldn't help snorting at the over the top ragsheet headline McKay was announcing in a tone he probably used when he awarded some smuck a metal for surviving a conversation with their pet Wraith back in their compound. "Again, doesn't sound much like me."

"Really," Rodney smugly challenged before he revealed, "That's how you…your actions were described to the President in his debriefing of the situation."

That statement had John shifting upright in the bed and he had to ask even as he knew he was falling into McKay's trap… "President? Of the…"

"United States, yes," Rodney drawled regally. "He knows your name now, might even be the one to hand you your medal, in a very hush hush secret ceremony of course. Stargate Command is highly classified. I'm sure you recognize the need for that necessity."

Sinking back into the bed, John tried to get his head around the President of the United States knowing his name…and not in the 'guess how badly this Air Force guy screwed up' way. Numbly he replied back to McKay's secrecy proclamation, "Yeah, haven't read about Aliens Among Us in any papers except the National Inquirer."

"And thanks to you, we don't have to make plans to protect our world from a Wraith Invasion. When their darts started flying into our cities, it would have been a little hard to deny the existence of aliens," Rodney said it with a tinge of humor but how close they had come to that reality put a chill down his spine.

"Yeah, I bet," John replied but was on autopilot, hated that he wondered if his dad would be proud of him now, if he knew the President knew his name. But then he could almost hear his dad's dark chuckle, "_For a couple million dollars of contribution I can buy a seat at the President's dinner table and we'll be golf buddies before dessert_.' Recalled his father's words a year ago, "_My money can get me more than you'll ever achieve and you could have had that power but you spit on it. On our family, on me. And now you need my money…to pay off some gambling debts?! I kept you out of a military prison, me and my money. That's the last thing you'll ever get from me and I didn't do it for you, did it for our family's reputation. So if this bookie thinks a threat to you will make me pay your debts, he's wrong. David's the only son I have left because, as far as I'm concerned, my oldest son had the decency to die in Afghanistan and take his shame with him._'

So caught up in memories, John almost missed McKay's pitch.

"So, you ready to trade in your detective badge for your Air Force uniform again? We would reinstate you with your rank intact," McKay offered, all wide smile, thought he might have to hold Sheppard back from actually hugging him.

"You're acting like I have a choice, but I don't, do I?" John caustically contested, refused to get tricked, to think this was anything more than a 'keep your mouth shut' maneuver. "I know your little secret organization exists, know about the Wraith you haven't told the general population about and I didn't sign your non-disclosure. I've been down this road before. It's Leavenworth or it's join your little crusade, right? I think three squares a day and free gym membership doesn't sound so bad."

Stunned at Sheppard's so wrong take on his generous gift, Rodney stammered, "What? No?! It isn't like that. This is your choice but I think you'd be crazy to.."

"What's _crazy_ is this offer!" John angrily flung back at McKay. "No one in their right mind would sanction me rejoining the Air Force, allowing me to fly a military copter ..and certainly not any spaceship. My last tour, I got 12 people _killed_, remember!? But…course you do, how'd you word it: "_You somehow avoided jail time and the courts sealed your record for political reasons_.""

McKay paled as his words came back to bite him on the butt like he feared they would. "Ok, I might have come on a little strong…."

But John shook his head, didn't want to hear McKay's defense. "Wasn't anything but the truth. I sign on for this "assignment" you're talking about and I know I won't ever fly anything but a desk. Probably be some officer's gofer. So I pass."

"But you can't!" Rodney's voice was almost edging toward a tantrum tone of surprised insistence.

"I can pass and I am," John steely vowed, then goaded, "Go ahead, do your damnest to ruin my life. I'll sit back, do my time in prison and you can let me out after your top secret program goes public and the Wraith are living out in the open among us."

Rodney's blood pressure spiked at that mental picture. "I think the point is we don't want that happening! And you can help us achieve that."

But John was done arguing the point with the guy. "You want me to sign that non-disclosure, fine. I'll sign. But that's the only signature I'm giving to you."

Having stopped on the other side of the curtain a few minutes ago instead of interrupting the tense conversation, Carson saw the current break in the conversation to be his chance to intervene. Coming into the curtained off area, he announced, "Rodney, the detective should be resting. Maybe you can come back tomorrow."

"But Carson…" Rodney stammered like a school boy ordered to go to his room.

"Shoo, on your way," Carson ushered Rodney from Sheppard's side, got into a few hushed but terse words with McKay before he returned to John's side. He reinserted John's IV without a word of recrimination and began checking his under his bandages for pulled stitches.

"Thanks, Doc," John offered because he had sensed the other man's presence beyond the curtain, knew the doctor had pointedly made his entrance to cut off McKay's attempt to brow beat him into submission. Suspected the doctor he had tossed McKay out of the infirmary for the same reason.

A little surprised that Sheppard was perceptive enough to know he had interrupted and shoved Rodney away from him in a desire to protect him and even more stunned to be thanked for it, Carson gave his patient a conspirator smile. "You're welcome, lad." Then he decided to press his luck by making Rodney's case too. "I know Rodney can be….insistent and has a one track mind but…his heart's in the right place. And he keeps his word so if you says he'll reinstate your rank and you'll get to fly, his offer is genuine."

Before Sheppard could rail at Beckett for changing sides on him, the doc gently squeezed his shoulder. "Now rest up and save the daring escapes for dingy gulags not spotless healing infirmaries or I will borrow the handcuffs you had in your pocket when you got here and lock you to your bed."

But the man's takeaway wasn't the doctor's threat but the clue about the fate of some of his belongings. "Wait, you have my jeans?! My boots too, right? And my gun, it's a pearl handled …."

"Yes, yes, your arsenal is nice and safe and you'll get it back when…." Carson began but the man cut him off.

"Let me guess, when I've signed the damn non-disclosure." And wasn't that just like a top secret government agency, to hold even your pants for ransom until they got what they wanted.

"Oh for pity sake, I don't give a fig whether you sign some piece of paper or not. I'm not giving your clothing back because they were not good for anything but the trash and if I give you back your boots, I bet you'll try your escape attempt again."

Refusing to let the doctor's well-meaning actions improve his mood, John goaded, "And my gun, you not giving that back because you're afraid I'll take hostages on my next escape attempt?"

"No, I'm not giving it back because you're weak as a kitten and couldn't hold the bloody thing! Probably drop it and shoot me by mistake," Carson heatedly railed back at his pig headed patient.

John fought back a smirk at the doctor's rant, assured, "Don't worry doc, I'm an expert marksman, hit only what I aim for." Carson gave him a funny, tilt headed expression. "What?" he demanded before he made a leap of logic and sighed. "Let me guess, that's what the _other_ Johns all say?!"

Carson's eyes glittered with humor then. "Nope. That's what Ronon's always bragging, that he hits only what he aims for. Guess you two have more in common than you thought. And Rodney too…whenever he's been injured it's his gadgets he wants to make sure are in one piece more than his own body. Maybe you'd fit in here better than you give yourself credit for."

With that, the doctor made his exit, leaving the words echoing in John's head. Crap but it was a long time since he fit in anywhere, that he allowed himself to want to fit in somewhere with someone. 'Y_eah, well, don't go getting needy, John,_' he chastised himself because he was just visiting, was practically being held captive, was not "fitting in" anywhere, certainly not there with these people.

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TBC

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Thanks for reading and your wonderful reviews!

Have a great day!

Cheryl


	5. Chance Encounters

Understudy

Author: Cheryl W

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CHAPTER 5: Chance Encounters

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Jerking awake, John's heart pounded in his chest and he was drawing in air like a drowning man. Rolling over and slipping off the bed, he huddled on the floor, back against the bed, hand still tied to the IV, bed sheets coiled around him, wringing with sweat just like he was. Blinking away the visage of the desert, the Afghanistan one and the Vegas one, he saw the metallic grey of the infirmary come into focus. Closing his eyes, he rested his head back against the bed. Damn nightmare, a twisted one at that. Crashing the copter in Afghanistan one moment and then the Wraith was there coming for him while he was trapped in the crashed bird, easy prey.

He blamed his talk with McKay for dredging up memories of his last military tour and everyone's fascination to talk about what happened out in the Vegas desert, like it was a fun topic for him to remember again and again and again. His mind was always fertile ground for nightmares as it was, before aliens stepped out of the comic books and into the world he lived in. It was why he liked playing poker all night: it didn't give his mind a chance to recall things in the scant hours of exhaustive sleep he allowed himself each night.

And now he here he was drugged to the gills and in the grips of sleep so deep it was like drowning when all he wanted to do was reach the surface, wake up. Not to mention being on display like some specimen they'd found. He hadn't missed the people who had peeked behind the curtain at him either, like he was stranger than a freaking alien race roaming on earth dressed as a goth rocker. Some peekers had dared to approach him, asked the asinine question of how he was feeling, gave lame wishes for his recovery but he wasn't fooled, knew what the attraction was: they had either met another Sheppard or heard grandiose stories about the other Sheppards. Either way, they thought they knew him, understood him, had some kind of connection to him, just like Ronon and McKay wrongly assumed.

Jerking the IV out for the second time that day, John used the bed and the nearby cabinet to pull himself upright, had to lean heavily against the cabinet a moment before he convinced his legs they could hold his weight. Hated that the world spun and he felt lightheaded but willed it down to a slight shimmering in his vision. Quietly pushing the curtain back, he eyed up the cart he had seen earlier, the one bearing fresh gowns. It wasn't his jeans and boots but it'd do better than a sweat drenched gown that was clinging uncomfortably to his cooling skin. Raising a hand to brace against the wall, he grimaced in pain as it pulled on the bullet wound and the subsequent muscles it had done harm to.

It was more a geriatric stumbling than walking to the cart, but then he pulled off his wet gown, shivered a little in the antiseptic chill of the infirmary before he tied the top strings on a new gown then slid it over his head and managed to get his arms in the sleeves, was glad someone had graced him with boxer shorts so his butt wouldn't be blowing in the wind. All in all, it was exhaustive, almost had him stumbling back to the comfort of a bed to lie down again…until he remembered the shards of his dream, of the memories he could never outrun but he tried to anyways.

Seeing that the night staff was in the back wing of the infirmary, he gave himself fair odds to make it out clean. His twenty steps to the exit were probably akin to watching a sloth run for its life. In other words: pathetic. But he made it, course he had to lean heavily against the wall just outside the door, frustratingly sweating again and his vision going a little white around the edges and he was starting to wish that the pain medication was still pumping into his veins. Crap but getting shot _hurt_. Now more than when it happened. Barely felt anything when the bullet zinged into his chest, only the vague notion that the bullet that broke the trailer window had to go somewhere, looked down and saw the cylinder stain in his shirt, the beginning of a sting of fire but then he was running and there was more shooting, glass showering over him, gun running dry, legs failing him….unarmed, helpless, about to be another sucked dry corpse in the desert.

Hissing in a breath, John fought down the memories and pushed off the wall only to stumble a step, until his shoulder came up against the wall's support. So he kind of walked, kind of slid against the wall but he was on the move, was getting away from all the stares, all the expectations, all the false 'you're such a hero' praise. Then the corridor divided and he had to make a decision, left or right, was contemplating that when a lithe striking brunette woman turned the corner and slowed to a stop at the sight of him, not in that 'shrieking away in terror at the escaped prisoner' look but that schoolmarm 'are you supposed to be out here without a hall pass' kind of narrow eyed inspection. When he made to keep moving, she put her 5' 2" body in his path.

"The scrubs are a dead giveaway that you're AWOL from the infirmary," her tone amused rather than cutting as was her small smirk. "Now you can claim you're delirious or…give me a really good reason I shouldn't be sic'ing Dr. Beckett on you."

Too exhausted to play games, John didn't try to step around her but leaned heavily against the wall, took a much needed breather and bluntly confessed, "I might go postal if I have to spend even another hour staring at that infirmary deco."

The woman's mouth flipped up into an amused smile and her eyebrow arched in playful agreement. "Yeah, the Daedalus designer was not about installing pleasing-to-the-eye specs. But I understand you've had a steady flow of visitors to distract you."

"People I don't know and who don't know me think we're pals because they met a rock star version of me in another universe," he bitterly categorized his guest list before he narrowed his eyes at her, tried to get her reaction on his too frank words. "I guess I should have asked if you fit in that category before I shot my mouth off."

"No, we have never met…in any universe," she assured him before she fell silent before coming to some kind of decision. "Well, we never met until right now. I'm Dr. Elizabeth Weir and I won't pretend to not know who you are."

"The disappointing hero knockoff?" John sardonically offered.

Surprise flickered a moment in her features at his words before she gave a, "Huh. Here I thought you were the man who singlehandedly saved Earth from a Wraith invasion."

Wiping the sweat from dripping into his eyes, John retorted, "I think the drones that blew up the Wraith and his galactic transistor radio did that."

She arched an eyebrow in amusement. "Ah…modesty."

"Reality," John inflexibly corrected. "Thanks for not dropping a dime on me," he said, hoping she got the point that he wanted her to move, that he was thanking her for something he wanted her to do. For a beat, she didn't move, eyed him up then she stepped out of his way and he began his slow trudge forward, had decided he could navigate the intersection without the wall's support and go left.

At his back, Weir called out in a light tone, "Fair warning: If they interrogate me under hot lights, I will give you up."

"I'll use my head start to my advantage then," he rejoined, taking that step away from the wall and trying hard not to sway, especially in front of an audience.

Seeing that he was heading toward the hallway that led only to the science wing, Elizabeth couldn't help intervening. "Not that I'm aiding and abetting but guest quarters are the other corridor and the 3rd room on the left is vacant."

Startled to get useful information, John stammered, "Ah…thanks" before spinning on his heel to change direction, was a move too fast for his overtaxed body and he felt himself toppling to the right, his vision going vertical on him.

Seeing the wounded man's staggering tilt to the right, Elizabeth dodged to Sheppard's right side, steadied his taller frame with her petite one. Looking up at his blanched sweat sheened face, their eyes met and she knew he expected her to use his weakness against him, march him back to the infirmary, a place he had put himself in considerable pain to escape. She warred with indecision before she gently pulled Sheppard's arm over her shoulder and wrapped her arm around his waist, took on more of his weight. Though she could admit she was doing the wrong thing, she didn't steer him back around toward the infirmary. Instead she started to guide him down the hallway toward the crew quarters, registered the surprise in Sheppard's eyes when she checked his features for warning signs that she was hurting him. "Hate for you to pass out in the hallway. You might rat me out as an accomplice in your delirium," she wryly offered up as an explanation for her good Samaritan routine.

"I've been known to talk in my sleep," he joked back, fell silent until she had him at the door third on the left. "I'm fine from here." Slipping from her hold, he leaned against the door frame, suddenly felt self-conscious didn't want to have her witness him falling on his butt trying to get to the bed in the room. Wanted to bear that shame in private.

She nodded her head but before she left she gave him a colluding smile. "Next time we meet, I'll pretend it's for the first time."

John wryly retorted, "That'd be a new experience for this place." Then as she turned away, he called out, "Dr. Weir….thanks ..for…"

"Don't mention it. Really. _Don't_," she joked then she headed down the corridor turned the corner and left him to his so sought after solitude.

To his credit, he made it to the bed without crawling but his descent onto its contours was more a crumbling collapse than a dignified landing but he didn't care. He was away from prying eyes, uncomfortable conversations, ludicrous job offers and that sickening disinfectant smell of the infirmary. It was a sense memory, one of his time spent recuperating in a German hospital because he might have lived but he hadn't walked away unscathed from that doomed rescue mission. Course there were far worse smells, worse memories, like the stench of burning flesh as his helicopter went up in flames before exploding.

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Watching this John Sheppard make his painful, halting journey from the infirmary had been torture for Ronon. More than once the Satadan almost went to the man when he faltered. But he hadn't, had held himself back, knowing his help wouldn't be welcome, that this Sheppard would think his concern wasn't truly for him but was for the other Sheppard, the one he'd lost. Even in his own head, his own heart, Ronon couldn't make that discernment, so he could offer no judgement for this Sheppard's mistrust of his motives. So he remained a silent, unperceived shadow to the injured man's trek, witnessed when Sheppard's path crossed with Dr. Weir's with unease.

Honestly, he had expected Dr. Weir to be harsh with the man that she had fought against still having aboard the Daedalus. Instead of calling for security at the sight of the "unauthorized civilian" roaming the highly classified spaceship's corridors, she was gentle with Sheppard, even steadied him when he faltered, what Ronon ached to do and could not. At that, Ronon felt no jealous, only relief that someone was there to help the man in his weakness.

But he wondered at Weir's decision to not order Sheppard back to the confines of the infirmary, instead she supported Sheppard's taller frame with her own lithe strength right to the door of an available crew quarters. Her actions crumbled every prejudice Ronon had formulated about her. She was not the cold woman she had portrayed herself to be when she strongly vocalized her opinion that Sheppard shouldn't be on the Daedalus, should have been moved to an Earth hospital immediately following his transporter ride from the desert. But then again, maybe she was as he had concluded her to be and this John Sheppard, like his own, simply had a knack for getting into the hearts of some of the gruffest people. Ronon should know, he was one of John Sheppard's converts…and he was better for it…and he'd wager so was Dr. Weir after this encounter.

Passing Dr. Weir in the corridor, Ronon offered her a simple but meaningful, "Thank you for helping him." Then he approached the quarters Weir had deposited Sheppard to and listed at the closed door to ensure there were no thuds indicating the man had collapsed. Not hearing any alarming sounds emanating from the room, he leaned against the wall, would be there if the man needed him.

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Rodney went into his meeting with Dr. Weir with an agenda and he resolved that he wasn't going to take no for an answering. Before the new leader of Atlantis could even direct the conversation, Rodney blurted out, "I know you are opposed to John Sheppard joining the expedition but he'd be a great asset. Dr. Becket tested him, without his knowledge, of course, and he has a strong ATA gene presence, just like the other Sheppards did. That alone should sell you on the idea of him just being stationed at Atlantis. With his high concentration of the gene, we might be able to decode things even our computers working for four years have not accomplished. Not to mention he's an experienced combat pilot who used to work for special ops so his military skills are top notch. Yes, he has disciplinary issues but that can be knocked out of him."

"Knocked out of him," Elizabeth sardonically parroted back.

Rodney blushed at his misstep but plowed forward, "Well…whatever the military says when they reprogram one of their soldiers to be more "yes sir"."

Playing devil's advocate, Elizabeth prodded, "So you oppose free thinking, Dr. McKay?"

McKay's eyes widened at her implication. "What?! NO! None of this would be possible without free thinking. Wait….did you just indicate you _liked_ John Sheppard's ability to NOT obey orders."

"Depends who gives the orders and what they are," she diplomatically answered, enjoyed seeing the usually unemotional McKay on the ropes.

"That's… well…interesting," Rodney slowly drawled, was reshuffling his debate now that Weir was throwing him different vibes. "I thought you were…..very verbally opposed to John Sheppard even remaining on the Daedalus to recover let alone joining the expedition but now you sound….less opposed," he almost ended his statement in a tone of a question.

Folding her hands together on her desk, Elizabeth faced down her senior science officer. "I've read the mission report, reviewed John Sheppard's records, interviewed his superiors and fellow soldiers and consulted Dr. Beckett about the status of his physical recovery. I may be …_inclined_ to change my mind."

"Inclined?" McKay dazedly repeated back the word.

"I will give it serious consideration," she decreed.

It was finally sinking in to Rodney that his argument on John Sheppard's behalf wasn't needed after all. And that was a relief and yet baffling to him and his scientific mind never could let an anomaly go unanalyzed. "Can I be so bold as to ask what changed your mind?"

Elizabeth, thinking of her chance encounter with John Sheppard hours before in the hallway, him wearing the infirmary gown, looking so vulnerable, _being_ so vulnerable, so ..weak, their conversation. "That's on a need to know basis," smirking as she said it, thought of her secrecy pact with Sheppard. But then again, she did rat him out, let Carson know where his wayward patient was but she had ordered the doctor to leave him in peace for the night unless he feared for the police detective's health.

She did, however, reassure the doctor that, if Sheppard was in pain, needed help, there was someone right outside his door, standing guard. Though the tall muscled man with dreadlocks came off more bouncer than protector, his words to her as he passed her in the hallway proved differently. "Thank you for helping him," and they were the first respectful not incensed words Ronon Dex had said to her and his sincerity…. _affected her_. Had her backtracking to watch as the imposing man listened at Sheppard's door a moment then, apparently not hearing any signs of distress from its occupant, leaned against the wall beside the room door and looked like he wouldn't budge even if the Daedalus plummeted from the sky.

Though Dr. Weir's comeback was absolutely no answer to the questions running through his head, Rodney happily conceded because he was getting what he wanted, sort of. "Oh…OK. Well….I'm pleased you're going to …considerate him for the expedition. Course there is one snag to all this: he's refusing to sign up. He didn't believe me when I said he would be allowed to fly the 302s, not to mention jumpers and Atlantis itself, which we didn't get into. He thinks that we will just stick him at a desk. Then there is his ludicrous notion that, if he refuses to the join the program, we will shove him in a dark prison cell so he can't spill the beans about the wraith."

Elizabeth found herself defending John Sheppard. "They are not entirely unfounded concerns, Dr. McKay. The military has been known to pull the bait and switch on job postings and Sheppard has been involved in black ops, he knows the consequences for intel breaches."

"Yes but we're not military…" at the tilt of her head he amended, "Ok, we half are but not…we wouldn't do that, either."

"You wouldn't, you mean." Getting an entirely new take on Dr. McKay since John Sheppard had entered the scene, first with McKay's championing Sheppard's admission into the Stargate Program and now the nearly protectiveness he was showing in regards to the Vegas police detective.

"No, I wouldn't!" Rodney's tone bordering on outrage at even the thought that he had lied to Sheppard about being able to fly. "I know he has no reason to trust my word but…I'm not trying to trick him or coerce him."

"But you do want to find the perfect argument to get him to join the expedition," Elizabeth said, recognized an urgency in McKay's request for Sheppard's inclusion to the Stargate Program and specifically Atlantis

"Absolutely," Rodney admitted without qualms.

"Because he has the gene, because he impressed you?" She pressed, even as she knew his intentions ran deeper than that, were more…personal.

"Certainly. Yes," Rodney stiffly answered.

"Dr. McKay, admit there is more to your desire to have him join the team," her tone gentle instead of interrogative.

Rodney almost sighed before he begrudgingly confessed, "Ok, yes, after meeting the other alternate universe Sheppard, hearing about Dex's Sheppard, I am ….partial to having our own Sheppard on the expedition. How can so many alternate universes have him involved in the fight against the wraith and that not be his destiny."

"Destiny?" She challenged back with a smirk. "I didn't think a scientist such as you would bandy about the word destiny and not mean it disdainfully."

Rodney's stiff stance wilted a bit as he admitted, "A year and half ago, you would be right. Before I stepped into another universe, before Ronon stepped into ours, until I met a remarkable man named John Sheppard who had saved Earth from the Wraith. Until Ronon talked of his Sheppard saving their Earth and now this Sheppard saving ours. I could run the numbers, the probability but…I don't have to. He's part of this, all of this, is meant to be."

There was a little scoffing incorporated in her words as she replied, "You make it sound like it's an obvious outcome."

"It is!" Rodney shot back, determined to convince Weir that Sheppard belonged on the Atlantis expedition.

"Apparently John Sheppard doesn't agree with your belief," she countered a bit of steel in her voice, like McKay wasn't getting that very important detail, needed to be reminded, strongly.

"But he has to!" Rodney exclaimed, clearly agitated that she and John Sheppard weren't taking his destiny theory to heart.

"There will be no shanghaiing him, Dr. McKay. He has to willingly sign up to join the expedition…" At Rodney's almost excited look as he grasp the direction her statement was heading, she stipulated, "Willingly signed up **after** you've made him fully aware of the extreme dangers, the stakes we are facing, that him flying again is in the package but lives will be in his hands again…and last time…things did not end well for those entrusted to his care."

McKay paled at her reference to Sheppard's Afghanistan fubar mission, as if the sins were his own. In a low but intense voice, he tested the truth of her early statement, didn't want her backing out on her word and causing him to promise Sheppard something he couldn't deliver. "But knowing that, you're still willing to green light him into the expedition?"

Weir paused, honestly couldn't logically explain away her change of heart in respect to John Sheppard, only that…he had made an impression on her, wasn't the cocky pilot she expected, was broken by his failures, took that weight and lived with it. And somehow she knew, he'd do all in his power to not lose lives again, that he would weigh the consequences even in doing what he felt was right. And hadn't she negotiated peace with people feeling the same things? Having suffered the consequences of wrong decisions and now she trusted them to use better judgement, be better in the future?! If she offered that trust to leaders deciding the fate of millions, shouldn't she offer it to a leader of military service personal like Sheppard? Didn't he deserve a second chance?

With decisiveness, she decreed, "If Sheppard agrees to join the Stargate Program, he'll have a place on Atlantis and yes, that means he'll get to fly 302s."

"Thank you Dr. Weir!" McKay enthused as he surged out of the chair and left their meeting.

"You still have to get his consent, Rodney!" she called after the man but she doubted he heard her. "And here I thought the excitement would begin **after** I got to my new assignment in Atlantis," she spoke aloud to herself. Something told her that John Sheppard entering her life, their lives, had already changed the path they had previously been on. She didn't know about destiny but she believed that people had the power to influence the people and the world around them and it seemed John Sheppard had that power in spades. And she was trusting her gut that told her that he was a force for good, and considering the bad forces they were up against, it certainly didn't hurt to stack the deck in her favor with another ace up her sleeve.

She almost chuckled at her metaphor. They had barely hovered over Vegas for a few hours and she was already using gambling lingo. And she had only spent a few minutes in John Sheppard's company and here she was putting her faith in him. But it wasn't just her, McKay and Ronon, they were taking the same leap of faith she was.

Now it was Sheppard's turn to either put his trust in them, to join the fight, or walk away. Like she had told McKay, the decision had to be Sheppard's but part of her ached to try her own shot at convincing him to join the expedition. Almost instantly she dismissed the idea. It wouldn't be her words that swayed him, would have to be someone else's. Someone who understood Sheppard better than she ever would, someone who knew about war, about losing battles, about losing people under their command, about getting back up when the world tried it's best to knock you down for the count. For a fleeting second she thought about herding Colonel Caldwell to Sheppard before she thought better of it. Caldwell was a soldier, yes, but he wasn't the right man for this job, didn't come off as the pep speech kind of guy. Instead an unlikely candidate came to mind: Ronon Dex.

She had misjudged the tall hulking man before, thought all he was insolence and action but today she had seen a different side of him of devote loyalty and concern. No, Caldwell wouldn't be the one Sheppard would listen to but Dex just might be. Putting John Sheppard out of her mind, she started diving back into learning the Ancient language. She had an entire expedition team that would be counting on her to keep them alive, and tonight, John Sheppard wasn't among that number. Realizing that this might be the last night before he did become her responsibility if McKay got his wish, she took the reprieve while she had it. Let Sheppard's wellbeing rest in Dex's capable hands tonight with a murmured, "Godspeed Dex," because she sensed the man would need all the well wishes he could get if he took it upon himself to be Sheppard's guardian angel.

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TBC

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Thanks for the awesome reviews and my silent readers!

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	6. One Day

Understudy

Author: Cheryl W.

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CHAPTER 6: One Day

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Ronon's years as a runner had taught him to be suspicious of the quiet, that it sometimes heralded in other dangers, not of the wraith variety, but just as malicious. So the quiet coming from the room Sheppard had disappeared into an hour ago, it was setting his nerves on edge. Suddenly he had a mental picture of Sheppard passed out on the floor, losing blood, needing medical assistance…while he stood uselessly outside the man's room.

With that fear in mind, Ronon rapped his knuckles on the door twice, pressed his ear against the metal door, straining to hear a response…that didn't come. Forgoing the worries of insulting Sheppard by barging in, he turned the handle, found the door unlocked. When the door swung open, the light from the hallway spilled into the room, exposed the bed and the figure crumpled face down on top of the sheets only half way up the bed, still clad in his stolen infirmary scrubs.

Entering the room, Ronon stood over the wounded man, guessed that Sheppard hadn't had the strength to make it far enough up the mattress for his head to find the pillow, let alone for him to draw on sheets and covers. Worriedly Ronon noted Sheppard's body was shaking minutely with shivers and though the lack of covers could be the culprit, Ronon feared the reaction was because of something direr than coldness. He contemplated calling Dr. Beckett or returning the man to the infirmary but hesitated to do either course of action.

Though he had just spent days at Sheppard's side when he was unconscious, barely clinging to life, this felt….different, like he was betraying the man by spying on him in his weakness. His own John would hate to be seen so vulnerable and he doubted this John was any different, was maybe more loathe to show weakness considering he had no position of power like his John had and no real reason to trust them to not take advantage of him in his weakness. It was probably why Sheppard had escaped from the infirmary to go somewhere he could be weak in private.

'_And if I take him back to the infirmary or bring Doctor Beckett to him, he won't ever trust me again with his weakness,' _Ronon knew that in his gut.Because that was the one thing he regretted about his relationship with his own John, that the man never fully let down his guard, never accepted that it was alright to be weak in his presence, never truly trusted that Ronon would take up the slack, protect John when he couldn't protect himself.

Cruelly dark memories crowded in on Ronon, made his John's lack of trust in him so very justified. _'He wasn't wrong to not put all his faith in you. When he couldn't protect himself…you didn't protect him either. He died looking right at you, thinking…maybe believing you'd save him…and you didn't.'_ Ronon felt bile burning in his throat and had to close his eyes, shove his revulsion with himself, with the unforgiveable way he had failed his best friend, back into the darkest depths of his soul.

He vowed then and there that he would never betray this John Sheppard, not in Sheppard's weakness, not even in his strength. And that meant not alerting Beckett to Sheppard's condition, instead Ronon would offer what aid he could to the man on his own. Here, in this room, away from prying eyes, to where the man had worked so hard to reach.

Afraid the man would startle at his touch, he quietly preambled his action. "Sheppard, I'm just going to get you settled better." Reaching out, he gripped Sheppard's uninjured shoulder and, with gentleness few would associate him with, rolled the wounded man onto his back. Sheppard groaned at the motion and fought to open his eyes.

"Easy, just getting you more comfortable," Ronon assured the half lucid man, found Sheppard's searching eyes finally latch onto his but Sheppard didn't offer up a verbal protest. The wounded man did a little hiss of pain when Ronon slid his arms behind his back and legs, picked up him a few inches off the bed to carefully resettle him properly on the bed. Mindful to brace Sheppard's head as he slid his hands from under the man, he eased John's head onto the pillow, only then realizing that he should have pulled the bed covers back _before _moving Sheppard.

Silently Ronon cursed his ineptitude at caring for someone else, someone who was weak and in pain. To prove how little he had helped Sheppard, the wounded man's teeth began to chatter as his shivers notched up into shuttering. Putting a hand to Sheppard's chest, he vowed, "Hold on. I'll be back," before stalking out of the room.

Unannounced, he barged into the room across the hallway, a groggy outraged voice demanded, "What's happenin'?! Hey, my sheet!" Then Ronon was back at John's side, spreading the pilfered sheet and blanket over the man, went so far as to tuck the sides in a little under him to ensure he was as warm as could be. Feeling satisfied at his work, he looked up, found Sheppard watching him in the strip of light illuminating them from the hallway.

John had never had someone help him when he was wounded before, had only cold, duty-bound aid from a few maids when he was sick as a kid. And he had _resented_ that he was comforted by McKay's help earlier on his failed escape from the infirmary, now felt that resentment spilling over with Dex's concern for his wellbeing. Probably why he responded like a grade A jerk. "Your nurse maid act doesn't make us fffrriends," wished his voice sounded stronger, that he hadn't stuttered on the "friends" part because of his chattering teeth.

A little hurt by a second rejection, Ronon steeled himself to not stomp off this time. Simply replied with, "Ok," because he was starting to accept that Sheppard had to set the pace of whatever tie the man might someday allow him. Lightly putting his hand on Sheppard's forehead, he reported, "You're running a fever. Should I call Dr. Beckett?"

"I'm not going back there," John snapped, pushing Ronon's hand away, hoping his tone was determined sounding enough because his bodily strength was all blown on his trip to that room. But he was a poker player after all, talented at bluffing when he had a losing hand.

Without arguing John's declaration, Dex walked out of the room and John didn't know if the man was washing his hands of him, (and John knew that, if the man was, it was his own fault) or Dex was off ratting him out to the doctor. Though John would have opted to go back to sleep, pain was making that nearly impossible now that he was lucid enough to feel it. In hindsight, he was regretting not committing some thievery of some good drugs when he made his jail break from the infirmary. But that was his problem lately…he didn't think past goal #1. Find the killer alien…done. What to do when he found the alien?! He had flunked that part of the 'saving humankind' exam. Just like today, escape the infirmary – accomplished. Be in any shape to do anything but vegetate in agony…not so much.

'_Damn it John, think for once in your life! Have a step 2…a plan B_!' he silently railed at himself. Snidely thought that the other Sheppards probably had step # 100 and plan Zs in mind before they even initiated step #1/Plan A. "Stupid brown nosers!" he muttered, hated the comparison game that seemed to constantly be going on his head since he was made aware of his oh so perfect doppelgangers.

Closing his eyes against the light still shining upon him from the hallway, he wished Ronon had at least shut the door, not made him even more of a spectacle for passerbyers. But maybe that was the point, to punish him for being an ungrateful moron for the man's help. Help Dex didn't have to give to him. _'Don't get confused, John. He did it because he thinks you're in some way his BFF. Don't start to believe it's anything but that. If he knew __you__…he wouldn't have come for you in the desert, no one would have_.' Could still see the faces of the people he had gotten killed in Afghanistan because he thought he was some hero, remembered the hatred in the eyes of their relatives. They knew he deserved to be dead instead of their loved ones, and him playing a part in stopping an alien trying to contact his brethren in another galaxy didn't absolve him from any of his guilt. Nothing ever would.

He was jerked from those happy thoughts by Ronon's reappearance in the room. Felt another shock when the man claimed a seat on the bed by his waist and offered out something to him in his outstretched hand: two different pills.

"One for pain and the other to fight the fever," Ronon explained, waited for the man to accept his offering. Hoped he did so willingly because he wasn't willing to let the man continue to suffer, had decided on his way back to Sheppard that he wasn't above forcing them on Sheppard and wouldn't that decimate any chances of friendship with the man. But he had consoled himself with the conviction that it would be in line with keeping Sheppard's wellbeing above his own needs.

Without the reluctance he knew he should playact, John reached out, took the pills and popped them in his mouth, found Ronon handing him a bottle of water a moment later. Taking a swig, he swallowed the pills, took another swallow of the refreshing water and couldn't help remembering the acrid thirstiness he had felt in the desert, lying there under the melting sun, bleeding out, dying. He must have dove deeper into those memories, got a bit lost in them because Ronon was calling his name like it wasn't the first time, "Sheppard? Sheppard!"

Coming back to himself, John focused on the man who, by all rights, shouldn't care a thing about him, a stranger he only met days ago and even then he had been unconscious for most of their "together" time. Selfishly not wanting to point that out to the man yet again, to push the man away for a third time, he instead remarked, "Thought the doc would order you to bring me back," because he didn't think Dex had a handy stash of the just the right drugs he needed in his room, that he had had to seek out the doctor for the medication.

Ronon smirked, amused. "Probably wanted to but he had orders to not drag you back to the infirmary unless you got real bad."

"Guess my medical coverage is being cut because my insurance policy lapsed, right?" After all, why would they spend more time, money and effort patching him up now that he had refused Dr. McKay's invite to join their galactic black ops team. Going forward he was just another civilian that wasn't their responsibility.

Not quite understanding Sheppard's comeback, Ronon replied with the truth he knew. "I think its Dr. Weir's way of keeping her promise to you."

John's head snapped up, gave Ronon a narrow eyed glare. "She told you that?" Had really thought she wouldn't mention their embarrassing meet and greet in the hallway to anyone, felt a little betrayed she already had. Had probably laughingly told Dex how pathetic he was.

Ronon shook his head in denial of John's question. "Heard your conversation."

John tilted his head, knew that meant the man had been following his pitiful, embarrassing journey from the infirmary. "Following me to make sure I didn't sabotage the ship?"

Ronon couldn't hold back a chuckle at Sheppard's ludicrous suggestion. "No. Thought you might bleed out in the corridor."

"Oh, well…your faith in me …doesn't exactly cheer me up." Strange that he rather be considered a security threat than a bumbling helpless invalid. He still had _some_ pride left apparently.

Instead of his statement chasing Ronon off, the man got comfy at a position on the bed closer to John's ankles and drew his bended knee up on the mattress. But he didn't say anything and that kind of unnerved John.

"If this is part of the recruitment package to get me to join your space unit, you're wasting your time. I told McKay no and it's staying no." Pretty sure he had hit on why the man was still there after his rebuffs at the man's attempts to make him an exact cloned replacement for his lost BFF.

"Huh," was Ronon's comeback, like John's words stumped him.

Knowing he was playing right into the man's hands, John couldn't help demanding, "What's that mean?"

"Just thought a guy who sacrificed his own life to stop the Wraith from invading his planet would want to make sure they didn't succeed in the future." Ronon felt a tinge of shame at baiting the man but smothered it. His need to have Sheppard in his life, on Atlantis overshadowed any damage trying to achieve that did to his honor.

Not being oblivious to Dex's manipulations, John shot back, "You have an entire black ops program to prevent that from happening,"

Holding John's look, Ronon drawled, "Yeah but they didn't prevent it this time..**you did**. You found the wraith." Sharpening his gaze's intensity, he asked, "And if you thought this black Ops program could handle it, why'd you get involved? Still try and find the wraith on your own?"

"I had a hunch and…" John hesitated a beat before bitterly acknowledging, "…sometimes I can't mind my own business." And look where that had gotten him time and time again. Where it had gotten him this time.

Reading the self-aversion in Sheppard's tone, Ronon countered with "Sounds like two good traits to me," a question in his tone of why Sheppard thought differently.

"They really aren't," John resentfully contradicted his visitor. "Get people killed." Good people, people who shouldn't have died if he'd just swallowed down his pride, believed his superior officers were in the right, didn't disobey direct orders following some hunch he had about Melody's location, regardless that his gut instincts were right. They found Melody, sure enough, and a contingent of Taliban who blew his copter and the 12 people he had in it out of the sky. And Melody …he watched them kill her right in front of him, punishment for his ill-fated rescue attempt that pinpointing where their encampment was to the US's closest base. "Make things worse than they already are."

To John's surprise, no judgment clouded Dex's expression at his reveal, instead the man from another galaxy stated matter-of-factly, "Don't know about that but it saved your planet this time."

"I got lucky," John shot back, didn't understand why no one could get that he wasn't some savior of the world. Was just a guy whose brain never quit working through a problem, over and over again, needing to solve it. To prove to himself that he could do something right.

Ronon snorted at John's comeback, asked incredulously, "You call getting a bullet to the chest and bleeding out in the middle of nowhere lucky?"

"Compared to some other days I've had…yeah," John testily retorted.

Ronon didn't protest John's claim, sat there in silence a few minutes, debating with himself if he should open himself up to this John, risk his own pride for the sake of gaining this Sheppard's trust. Tell this…_stranger _what he hadn't told this McKay or Teyla, had left his life in that other Atlantis, that other Pegasus galaxy behind but it still was part of him, made him who he was. _'Just like this Sheppard's failure, his regrets make him who he is_,' and it was a revelation..that he actually had more in common with this Sheppard than he had had with his own.

His eyes drifting down from Sheppard's face to some random spot on the blanket on the bed, Ronon began to speak, "My planet was overrun by the Wraith when I wasn't there to protect it and that haunts me." Inhaling a steadying breath, he looked up, wanting to gauge the man's reaction, note any judgement coming his way but there was a look of grim understanding on Sheppard's face. The wounded man's response was enough to embolden Ronon on. "Maybe I couldn't have made a difference, saved any lives, stopped my planet's council from making a devil's pack with the Wraith, agreeing to turn over three fourths of the population so their elite could survive, become servants to the Wraith," raw bitterness in the recounting of what those in power had done to save themselves and betray their world's population.

He paused, tried to push down the raging fury that always threatened to consume him, was why he didn't choose to speak of this…that and his shame at his failing. A shame that this Sheppard knew, carried with him as Ronon carried his own. Hoarsely, he continued, "I can't help wonder if I could have changed things..saved even a handful of lives…sabotaged our council's plans."

John swallowed hard, that was the rub, wasn't it. The what ifs. If he hadn't tried to save Melody, if he had followed orders, if Melody could have been rescued by another team, a prepared team instead of him and his innocent passengers. If…if…if. He couldn't offer one word of consolation to Dex, had none to offer himself after seven years of trying to find some.

Looking up, holding John's haunted gaze, Ronon darkly warned, "Trust me, you don't want to see your world ravaged or become slaves to the Wraith and regret you didn't do all you could to stop it. Because whatever pain your past failures cause you, failing your entire world…" he swallowed hard at that condemnation he placed on himself before direly cautioning…"it is so much worse."

Companionably patting John's leg, Ronon got up and walked out of the room, closing the door on his departure. Letting Sheppard have his privacy; deal with his weakness without an audience. Knew he had told this John about Sateda, not as some tactic to sway him to join Stargate Atlantis but as a warning…for a friend. To not see someone he cared about drown in the guilt that threatened to overwhelm him some days. Because this John, he was barely staying afloat as it was, didn't need even another drop of guilt added to his soul.

And, like it or not, John Sheppard was vital to Earth's survival, to Atlantis'. Didn't get to sit on the sidelines and let others pay in blood and soul wrenching despair for the cost of the battles that had to be waged. This was John Sheppard's fate, to have lives in his hands, worlds saved or lost on his conscience. Ronon almost wished he could spare him that…had not gotten his wish to meet this world's John Sheppard. But fate had stepped in, had a Wraith cross this Sheppard's path and now things were in motion none could undo. All Ronon could do if Sheppard accepted this fate was stay steadfastly by his side like he had his own best friend's and pray fervently things didn't end the same way between them because there wasn't enough of his soul intact to survive losing another John Sheppard.

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With Dex's departure, John curled onto his unwounded side, wanted to shut out Ronon's words that had dug deep into his soul, to make this not his problem. To go back to days ago when his biggest concern was how he was going to win enough money to pay back the loan he got from Mikey. To no one counting on him, putting any faith in him, to everyone knowing to keep their distance, that he didn't want conversations, drinking pals, acquaintances and he sure as hell didn't want anyone labeled as a friend. Didn't want anyone to ever get that close to him again because people close to him…they died, he got them killed.

'_And if you do nothing, not just the people you know could die but everyone …EVERYONE could die._' Crap crap crap! Didn't they know they were tapping the wrong guy on the shoulder?! He was a screwup! How'd McKay put it, that somehow he managed to live with his pride killing twelve people but McKay didn't think others could stand to look at him it they knew that about him.

But the kicker was, McKay knew the truth, that truth about him…and he was leading the charge to get him on this team, had apparently talked Ronon into trying to mess with his head, make it seem joining was the only way the world would be safe. And wasn't that a crock of crap! The world was better off without him trying to "help it".

John hated that doubts were creeping in on that conviction.

What Ronon had said, about losing his world, living with the regret, the what ifs… John knew that torment better than most. What if he hadn't tried to rescue Melody, what if he went alone, what if he had succeeded instead of failed. What if, what if, what if. They ate of him and that was dealing with 12 lost lives. If he didn't join this team, if half the world's population got wasted in some alien war he could have prevented…Crap but how did it come to this?! Him standing between the world's destruction and some alien invasion?!

'_I don't need this_!' he wanted to scream and more importantly, he didn't **want** it. Lives in his hands, the fate of others dependent on him not screwing up, stakes higher than he could ever have dreamed even when he was so full of himself and his righteous belief that he could do some good in the world. That John Sheppard, the one before the crash, he'd think Ronon and McKay were dead-on, that he was the right guy for this job, the only guy for this job. But this present John…he knew better…had learned the hard way the cost of being wrong. Just one time cost him more than he could bear.

'_And if you say no now, to this, isn't that you being wrong again, on a freaking apocalyptic scale_?!' Wished he had someone to call, to bounce this crazy proposition off of them, to have someone tell him what to do, what was best to do. But that was the problem with cutting himself off from everyone…he didn't have a sounding board, a friend to talk things over with, didn't even have a family member he was on speaking terms with. He was alone in the world. '_Maybe that's the answer…you've got no reason to stay in this world, no ties, no longer any job…no obligations to uphold, no close relations holding you back.'_

Truth was, he could step off Earth and no one would ever know he was gone, would miss him. Surprisingly, that truth didn't bother him, what rattled him was thinking of where he was _headed. _Not the unknown world, another galaxy thing that should terrify him but the certainty that hewouldn't be alone.

He already knew there would be people there who would care about him, would track him down and help him if he got hurt. Like Ronon had tonight and McKay had expressed concern for him in the infirmary and the doctor genuinely seemed to care about his recovery and Elizabth..Dr. Weir hadn't tossed him in the brig for his jail break from the infirmary. It would be …different…where he might be heading. And it scared him…not going up against the Wraith, not maybe dying in a different galaxy, no what frightened him most was opening himself up to caring about people again, letting them care about him. If he failed this time…failed more people who trusted him…he wouldn't make it back from that, wouldn't want to. '_You're really thinking about doing this?! John …you do this…there's no going back. You screw up in a scale like you're going to face there…more blood will be on your hands than you could ever deal with."_

"So don't screw up," he muttered to himself, wished it was a vow, a promise instead of a pleading reprimand to himself to not fail his entire world. But either way, good decision or the worst he'd ever make, his mind was made up. He couldn't stand by and let his world come under attack, had to join the fight. Hadn't defied his father and joined the Air Force to let his country…his _world _fall to evil men's manipulations. Or, in this case, some evil, hungry alien race's eating spree.

Ironically he recalled his conversation with the CSI guy at the Wraith's victim's crime scene out in the desert: "I thought I'd seen everything" and he'd naively replied, "Yeah, me too. One day we'll learn." Today was turning out to be that day, the day that he realized that he'd barely seen anything in his life, that he didn't know a thing about the threats to his own world, and certainly wouldn't have ever guessed the path his own life would take to some other galaxy. He just prayed it wasn't also the day he doomed his planet by once again thinking he could save lives simply because he couldn't bear to stand idly by and lose them.

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TBC

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Thanks for spending time with this story!

Have a great day!

Cheryl


	7. All In

Understudy

Author: Cheryl W.

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Chapter 7: All In

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John woke to find fresh clothing on the chair in the room. '_Ronon_' he surmised, grimaced in pain as he struggled to sit up, was nearly drenched in sweet before he had the new clothing on. Just the act of dressing drained him enough that he lay back on the bed, fully clothed and checked out again. Woke again and realized there was no way to tell time in the windowless room. Course maybe spaceships didn't come with windows. Crap but he didn't even know anything about sci-fi craziness, wished he had been a trekkie or something to give him groundwork on what he could expect.

Then again, the visage of the Wraith McKay had locked in a glass cage, and the Wraith that was itching to slurp the life out of him with his sucker hand and the drained bodies were their own crash course in 'out of this world' lexicon. At least Ronon looked human, was human. Hoped the rest of the Pegasus galaxy inhabitants ran to those lines because gag worthy special effect makeup, that was the deal breaker on movies for him. He wanted to be able to eat while enjoying a good flick.

'_Guess I'll soon find out firsthand how gruesome some of the Pegasus galaxy population gets,_' he realized, knowing the decision he had come to, it would open his life experiences ten thousand fold. Speaking of which…he had yet to make that official. Pushing himself upright he rubbed a hand at his throbbing shoulder wound and then downed some of the pills lying on his bedside counter, again, courtesy of Ronon. But he didn't wait around for them to kick it, instead pushed himself to his feet, swayed a moment with lightheadedness and then took that first step forward. It was a lot like his trek the prior night, when his path had crossed with Elizabeth's, but at least he looked less inconspicuous, sporting one of the their uniforms and not hospital scrubs.

Exiting the room, he noted the pedestrian traffic in the hallway, figured he had timed things for shift changes or something. He snagged one young guy's arm before he could rush past him, asked, "Where can I find Dr. McKay?"

The guy gave him a once over look, like he knew he didn't belong in that uniform but he didn't dismiss his question. "I can find out. And you are?"

"Sheppard," John provided, didn't expect the kid's eyebrows to do that climb thing or for his look to change from wary to a little awestruck.

"Sir, yes, sir. I'll tell McKay to meet you here."

"No, I'll…" John protested, didn't know why the kid was giving him the junior officer to superior officer response but didn't want McKay summoned to him like he wasn't the person AWOL on the ship.

But the kid was pressing on a communicator bud in his ear already. "Captain Caldwell, I found Sheppard in the Delta wing. He's asking to speak to Dr. McKay." Whatever this captain said had the kid nodding and giving a curt, "Yes sir" before he turned back to Sheppard. "Dr. McKay is on his way." Then he hesitated before sheepishly saying, "Maybe it'd be best if you went back into your room sir." Grabbing John's arm as John's world did a tilt, the young officer ushered him inside and back to sit on his bed.

"Thanks," John mumbled, hated this pathetic wave he was giving off to everyone he came across.

"No problem, sir. Are you alright to wait here alone? I am needed at my station…" the young guy asked whose name tag John took the time to read.

"Sure, Lt. Ford," he replied, saw the startled pleasure in the twentysomething's eyes when he addressed him by rank and last name.

"Hope to see you around, sir," the lieutenant beamed before he left John to his solitude, solitude that didn't last more than a minute before McKay was stalking into the room, speaking before John could even open his mouth.

"I realize you think this is a prison but leaving the infirmary was unbelievably stupid in the condition you are in! If you had ventured into one of the desolate areas of the ship you could have bled out and all we would have found when Carson put up the alarm was a bloody corpse. It was a miracle you crossed paths with Dr. Weir and that she didn't boot you off the ship right then and there because, let me tell you, she was not your biggest fan." Had learned of that encounter, not from Dr. Weir, but Carson because the doctor was crap at keeping secrets from him when he badgered him, course Beckett had kept to his guns and refused to say where Sheppard had crept off to, much to McKay's irritation. But thinking of that chance meeting, McKay tilted his head in contemplation, "Then again…that little encounter helped my cause…well our cause. I guess its true women, even strong ones like Dr. Weir, love to fix broken men and, boy, do you look broken, and that's a day after…."

"If I join this…space program…" John interjected to McKay's rambling rant, causing the Doctor to stop mid breath.

Rodney stiffened, Sheppard's words sinking in slowly. "Wait?** If** you join…you're considering it?!" Maybe Dr. Weir wasn't the only one doing a turnaround after their encounter last night.

Holding McKay's gaze, John stated his requirements for this …ludicrous job offer of McKay's, "I need to do some good, not get sidelined at a desk. I want to be on the front lines."

McKay's heart was pounding in anticipation of where this conversation was heading. "Honestly there are no safe rear guard positions in the Pegasus galaxy. You'll learn that soon enough," he almost cheerfully promised. Sheppard was really coming with him, them. Was going to join his team, go to Atlantis. Holy crap!

"I'm either a real part of the fight or else stick me in a black site and throw away the key," John challenged, would take no half measures on this deal.

McKay huffed. "Would you stop with the black site plot. You're not going to a black site…but.." here he paused before darkly predicting, "..after dealing with some of the crap the Pegasus galaxy throws your way, you might wish you were at one of those undisclosed locations."

"Your sales pitch needs some polishing," John grumbled.

McKay stiffened and his cheeks gave off a red hue. "I'm not really part of the recruitment program."

"I don't doubt that," John acerbically rejoined.

Ignoring the insult, Rodney focused on the end game. "Yes, right..so…is this leading up to you saying yes to joining the program, going to Atlantis?" He hated that he held his breath, that John Sheppard joining meant so much to him.

John's eyes held McKay's, honestly didn't know how the guy who knew his record inside and out could want him at his side when the crap hit the fan..but he did. Like Ronon did. '_Not because of you, John, because of the __**other**__ John. Don't __**ever**__ forget that. __**Ever**__!' _But that those other Johns had gotten him the offer and crap, he wasn't going to stand by and let Earth be overrun by life sucking aliens. "Yeah, I'm all in."

Rodney couldn't help the exuberant smile, went so far as to clap John on the shoulder, sadly his wounded one causing the man to flinch back in pain and Rodney to stammer, "Oh crap! Sorry! Sorry!" Pulling back so the man knew he wouldn't unintentionally hurt him again, Rodney got down to business. "The Daedalus, that's the ship you're on right now, is scheduled to head back to Atlantis day after tomorrow. I know that's doesn't give you a lot of time for goodbyes or setting your Earth affairs in order because it might be who knows how long until your back Earthside…"

John decided it best to cut off McKay's unnecessary speech before it got longer than the Gettysburg Address. "Got nothing to settle…everything I had was in my car."

McKay paused, processed John's declaration before concluding, "Right..I was informed that you quit the police force," a slight question in the statement.

"Came into some money," John sardonically boasted, knowingly pushing McKay's buttons, wanting…he didn't know. For McKay to see who he really was, not some knock off of the hero version alternate universe self that he had met.

Nonplussed, McKay countered, "Right, couple thousands of the Wraith's winnings."

"More than a couple," John confessed, held McKay's eyes, wanting the man to get pissed at his deception, to stop putting that hero label on him.

Rodney was surprised by the confession, though he had guessed Sheppard had lowballed the "thousand" number, why did Sheppard need him to know that? Did he want a clean slate or…no, Rodney didn't think that was it at all. "I see what you're doing there, trying to make me take back my offer by selling me on how bad a guy you are. But it's not going to work, do you know why?"

"Because you're too brilliant for that tactic to work," John goaded, from his first encounter with McKay he knew the guy thought he had all the answers and everyone else would nip at his heels trying to keep up with his genius.

Stunned at Sheppard's right on insight, Rodney stammered, "Well…yes..but also because you had thousands of dollars in the trunk of your car, a free and clear 'get out of town' card and you did a pit stop to save the world. A side trip that happened to end up with you being mortally wounded and offering you no hope what so ever of gambling away a single bill of your ill-gotten gains. Not really the profile of a ne'er-do-well."

John was almost stung at the put down, tried to boast, "Actually my dad did reference me once as his 'ne'er-do-well' son."

McKay, now feeling back in control of the situation, crossed his arms over his chest and conjectured, "So I take it no tearful goodbye with dear old dad? We can arrange flights to your brother and mother…" because yes his stalking of Sheppard for the past year did uncover a few family ties for the man.

John's eyes dropped to the floor and he muttered, "Pass."

"Surely you want to say goodbye to them, tell them you're going to work for a private security company and will be gone an indeterminate about of time with no contact with them," McKay pressed.

Raising his eyes to McKay, John sardonically replied, "We've already done the whole, no contact thing. It works for us."

"But you're.." Rodney began to protest but John cut him off.

"Going and maybe never coming back?" John bluntly stated but didn't shrink from that possibility. "They'd be fine with that. So are their forms to sign or do I get an ankle monitor so I never run off and join a different black ops unit?"

Accepting John's decision but feeling…saddened by it, Rodney tried to light the mood, "No ankle monitor but subdermal trackers do come in handy." At John's raised eyebrows, Rodney clarified, "Not to track you but for rescue missions. Like I said, there are no safe ports in the Pegasus Galaxy."

"I'm fine with that," John unflinchingly declared.

"Why did I know you'd say that," McKay grumbled, hated that his gut was churning in worry for this man already and yet, he was the one practically pushing him into this danger. "I know what I said …that you'd be useful, needed…but if you don't want to go…there's no shame…no repercussion. You can walk away and …"

"Let Earth fall to an alien race knowing I might have been able to do something about it?! Sitting on my hands isn't really my thing…course last time it cost twelve people their lives." Solemnly he met Rodney's eyes, needed the man to accept what he was getting himself into by trusting him, wanting him in battle with him. "I think the question is, are you ready to pay the price for asking me to join your fight. My future screw ups…they will blowback on you. And historically, when I screw up…there tend to be causalities."

Instead of shaking his faith in Sheppard, the man's warning cemented the rightness of John being with him more firmly in place. "And when you win…you stop catastrophic horrors. I'll take those odds."

McKay's declaration made John want to push by him and get the heck out of Dodge as fast as he could. The gambler in him knew better than most that, every time you thought you'ld 100% beat the odds, you ended up owing your bookie more than you'd make in five years of honest work. "As you like to remind me, I _died _getting that"win"."

But McKay smiled smugly. "That's why you've got me, to haul your butt out of the flames. Now this is a government agency so there are forms in triplicate to sign. I'll have someone come around with them and Carson, Dr. Beckett, will be here to see you soon. Then, whenever he gives you the all clear, I'll have someone give you the tour of the ship so you know your way around. Questions?"

"You didn't lie about me getting to fly, right?" because he _ached _to be zipping through the clouds, a control stick in his hands and the horizon getting ever closer from the view outside a cockpit. It also was the only place his world had ever felt _right_, that he could put all the bad in a box and not peek behind the lid.

McKay's smile turned genuine and a bit fond. "Nope, didn't lie. Included in that tour of the ship will be the hangar bay. Not saying you'll be green lighted yet to take a 302 out but …you know, you can kick the tires, check under the hood, so to say, until Beckett does give you medical clearance to fly." Then McKay was turning around, leaving.

John wanted to do something goofy like say he wouldn't let him down, offer a sincere thank you maybe but that would have come from a younger version of him, one who hadn't messed up and good people had died because of it. So instead he called out, "It's not too late to change your mind because I'm not that other Sheppard. I got lucky with the wraith but luck…it doesn't stay good for very long."

McKay turned back to him at the doorway. "I'm a scientist, I crunch numbers, analyze outcomes, predict odds, I don't believe in fairy dust or luck. You're not sitting here because of luck, good or bad."

"Then why am I here?" because he honestly didn't know how his crap life had turned into a science fiction war movie mash up.

"I think that's a question you have to answer for yourself. But by you joining with us…I think you're starting to figure it out." Then McKay left him alone to grapple with the thousand 'whys' cropping up as he sat in a bed in a _space ship_ ready to go to another _galaxy _in two days.

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Leaving John's room, McKay couldn't keep the satisfied smile off his face at his victory, startled when a voice came from a corridor he just passed.

"Is he staying?"

Turned to see Ronon's tall form melt out of the woodwork. "Are you stalking me?!" he accused before insight kicked in. No, not stalking _him_. Ronon had known where Sheppard was the whole time and that probably meant… "You talked him into staying," Rodney discovered, course it was Ronon who made a real connection with Sheppard, not Dr. Weir…and not him with his lame recruitment speech. He felt a shaft of disappointment and flash of jealously at the realization.

"He's staying?" Hope there and anxiety, like Ronon was holding his breath awaiting Rodney to speak the truth he didn't know he should cling to yet.

"Yes, he's agreed to join our team," Rodney confirmed a bit standoffishly, didn't feel like gloating now that he seemed to have so little a hand in the outcome.

Ronon broke out into a honest to goodness smile, the like McKay had never seen the man sport before, transforming his formable scowl into look of joyous reveling. He clapped McKay on the shoulder in celebration.

"And here you wanted an excuse to rant and rave and threaten me and all of IOA if we didn't force him to join the program," speaking aloud a concern Rodney had had about Ronon's reaction if Sheppard continued to do a hard pass on becoming part of the Stargate Program. Because as much as Rodney had obsessed over Sheppard joining the Atlantis team, it wasn't as personal as Ronon's grief and rabid need to have a connection with this universe's Sheppard.

"That's not what I would have done if he said no," Ronon denied, eyes dark again with things McKay was hesitant to delve into before, when the Satedan wore his grief like ten inch razors around his personal space.

Ronon gave a look down the hallway toward Sheppard's room but forced himself to walk the other way. He could feel safe in giving the man some room now that he knew John wasn't leaving.

But Rodney couldn't let Ronon's boast go unchallenged, called to the man's back, "Oh really?! So you would have meekly stood by while we beamed him to Earth, sentencing you to never see him again?" Doubted that claim especially in light of how raucous a fight Ronon had waged to find this universe's Sheppard when he first arrived through the rip in their intertwined universes. And now that Ronon had come face to face with this world's John Sheppard…he would have been ok losing him again?! _Yeah, right_.

Ronon turned around to address McKay said his next words casually but resolutely, "No, I would have beamed down with him, gone wherever he went."

McKay was too stunned to not sound it when he stammered, "What?! You…you would have left the fight?" hadn't ever fathomed that Ronon, a warrior of the first order, would ever concede the fight.

And that had been Ronon's battle with himself for the last hours since he had deposited the clothing in Sheppard's room and left the man. What _he_ would do if Sheppard chose to not be in the fight, to leave the Daedalus and everything he had just learned about the Wraith behind. The answer had come to Ronon sharply and cleanly, like his response to McKay now did. "Wouldn't have stopped fighting, just changed what I'm willing to fight _for_." Or more precisely, _who_ he was fighting for: Sheppard. He had fought for his planet and lost, had fought for his John Sheppard and lost him, and in comparison, both losses were equally decimating to his soul.

So in this world of second chances, he was shaking off the Satedan way of battle, that victory over the Wraith was worth any cost. He had believed that creed but _his _John hadn't, had tried to teach him that victory could taste like defeat if you lost too many lives you cherished, if you traded off part of your soul in the winning. And Ronon knew that now, soul deep. So winning this war, that wasn't his goal. Keeping John Sheppard with him, safe, reclaiming a piece of what had been stolen from him, that was his new mandate.

Seeing that McKay had no comeback to his announcement, Ronon turned around again, went on his way. Didn't honestly know if he was more proud of Sheppard for agreeing to join the fight or terrified at the danger the man would now face. '_Danger __we __will face'_, he corrected because he would not let this version of his friend walk alone, would not let him share his best friend's fate. Would not let it end as it had before, would die first before watching another John Sheppard take his last breath.

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TBC

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Thanks for the wonderful support of my reviewers!

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	8. Lies and Omissions

Understudy

Author: Cheryl W.

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Chapter 8: Lies and Omissions

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Ronon heard Dr. Beckett and McKay bickering before he saw them, was of the mind to turn tail and not cross their paths until part of their conversation stopped his retreat full stop.

"….if you had been bloody honest with him upfront maybe I wouldn't have thought I had to lie to him!" Dr. Beckett's raised voice carried his accent through the hallway.

"I was honest…sort of. I'm sure I mentioned the Ancient gene and what it could do when I took him on the nickel tour of Area 51's Wraith exhibit," McKay hedged but the medical doctor wasn't letting him off the hook.

"But you never told him he had the gene…like the other Sheppard's did. That he's the strongest known carrier of the gene and therefore…."

"So he's got a high count of the gene..there aren't midi-chlorians, don't give him the Force," Rodney scathingly mocked his friend's concern.

Dr. Beckett's voice shook with anger at his friend's deflection. "No it gives him the golden ticket to Atlantis, which he doesn't even know because I lied and said his gene was barely there."

"If you lied to him, that's on you," Rodney retorted, trying to wash his hands of guilt.

"I lied because he was looking at me like we had hoodwinked him to join the expedition only because of this gene…well, that and his resemblance to some guy in two alternate universes who you and Ronon act as if he's a bigger than life hero. The man has enough to deal with without us dumping his advanced abilities into the mix of why he's important to our mission."

Ronon had heard enough, with three long strides he was around the corner and towering over the two arguing men. "You didn't tell him about the gene?!" ferocious accusation there for both men keeping that information from Sheppard.

"I was _going_ to…"Rodney heatedly shot back.

"When?! After you plunked him down at the control chair to Atlantis and told him to fly the blasted thing?!" Beckett charged.

Having no patience to listen any longer, Ronon turned on his heel and tried to wrack his brain where a pissed off Sheppard would go now that he was medically cleared to wonder the ship. _His_ Sheppard would be standing stiffly staring out the view window at the stars, his jaw clenched. _This_ Sheppard…didn't seem the type to stand still and dwell on things, was more like Ronon himself, needed to be in motion, to …to.. vent his frustration. Ronon smiled, knew where this Sheppard just might be.

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Usually Teyla had this particular training area to herself this time of night, knew that wasn't the case when she entered the room and heard the slap of fists raining down blows on the punching bag. She wasn't deterred, didn't actually mind company …until she saw the person who was attacking the punching bag with such vigor. Wasn't sure if she should intrude on the man, though, to be honest, she was highly curious, had yet to be even intruded to John Sheppard by the two teammates that were so fond of the man they had known barely two weeks.

Telling herself she was being skittish to not make his acquaintance now that the opportunity was there, she approached the man, noted the man's sweat drenched clothing, the way he braced his left arm against his side as he swung his right into the bag and the telltale spots of blood leaking through the man's shirt. She didn't intend her first words to be what they turned out to be or conveyed in a reproachful tone. "I do not believe Dr. Beckett would approve of you overtaxing yourself, reopening the stitches in your wound."

Though John had known the second that the training room was no longer his sole sanctuary, he gritted his teeth at the reproof but didn't reply. Hoped the woman would get the hint and leave him alone as he continued his attack on the bag.

Teyla fought back a sigh at the man's stubbornness, decided it was no wonder Ronon got along so well already with this John Sheppard. Crossing to be in the man's line of vision to the right, she tried her diplomatic shtick on him. "I know Ronon is looking forward to you joining our team. It would be disappointing to him if you set back your healing and delayed the time frame for that to happen." Though she wasn't looking forward to this man joining their team, a man not even properly trained for the stargate program, having bypassed all that and gotten green lighted to the expedition seemingly solely based on his similarity to an alternate universe's man of the same name and appearance whose bravery she had witnessed firsthand.

Hitting the bag with a combo, John finally lowered his arms, faced the bronze skinned woman, Teyla, McKay had mentioned the woman on their team, another Pegasus Galaxy resident. "Yeah, it would be a shame to disappoint everyone even _before_ my first mission. Should probably hold off and make that a goal for my alpha mission."

Though the man's tone was biting, Teyla paid more attention to his words, the sentiments prompting them: namely a surprising dose of self-loathing. "None of us believe you will disappoint us," she denied but it was stiffly said, a courtesy more than a declaration. Honestly, she feared he'd do more than disappoint Ronon and McKay…was more likely his lack of training and their blind loyalty to him would get her two teammates killed, probably herself as well.

"Really?" John challenged, eyes searing into the woman's, not letting her lie go undetected. "I get the feeling I've already disappointed you and we've what? Been in the same room…3 …5 minutes."

Teyla stiffened at the man's insight. "I meant no disrespect…"

"Sure you did. And it's actually refreshing," John replied with a smirk. "One of the other Johns…you met him and realize I'm sadly lacking in comparison."

"No, that is not what I think," she rebuffed a bit heatedly, refused to get drawn into the comparison game.

As Sheppard pulled off one glove then the other, Teyla noted his wince when he jostled his left arm, knew she should be escorting him to the infirmary to get his shoulder restitched instead of engaging him in a terse battle of words. But before she could make that suggestion, he unflinchingly disputed her denial. "Ok, not sadly lacking…more like…not good enough to wear his boots let alone get the hero worship McKay and Ronon are laying on me."

It seemed he was trying to get her to say something she would regret, so she chose her next words with care. "You are different from the other Sheppard I met but…"

Sick of the politicking, of people tiptoeing around him, of keeping things from him, pretending they didn't have some agenda for every word they said…or didn't say, John stepped closer to Teyla, growled, "I didn't _ask_ to be here! To try and pretend to be some saintly version of myself! Be a stand in for some guy that Ronon loved like a brother and lost! What no one's been willing to hear is…I'm not like Ronon's John or McKay's Sheppard! I am not a good guy…" his rasped out before tilting his head, watching her reaction, realizing, "…but I think you know that. So why don't you stop trying to convince me of something I already know…tell them! Ronon! McKay!"

Teyla was usually a good judge of people, tended to trust the right person and be suspicious of those not worthy of her confidence but this man…she was conflicted, felt he was unworthy to join their team but …could not agree with his words. She found she couldn't claim her problem with him was in any way a disbelief in her heart that he was "a good guy." "You risked your life to stop the wraith from sending his message…"

John irritably waved away her words, it was like that was the only thing they could come up to put on his likeable column. "And if I had failed…how great a guy would I be then, huh?! It's not intentions and it's not even actions…it's how the damn story ends that ever matters! I got one win…**one**!" raising one finger at her. "And it probably …no..it shouldn't wipe out my losses…any more than some damn gene in my blood should." Then he was stalking for the door but she found she didn't want him leaving thinking she agreed with him, didn't know some of what he was feeling.

"I do know what it is like to have the best intentions and for that to turn out…" she thought of her people..gone..taken…killed because of her actions, her decisions, "…horribly wrong." She had also read his file, had wanted to know more about the man who she would be trusting to have her back, knew of the rescue mission that had failed and cost people their lives.

Though John had slowed his walk at her words, he didn't stop, growled, "I'm not interested in a therapy session…" hated the pity, the 'I know how you feel' speeches worse than the hatred.

Regardless of his rebuff, Teyla announced, "I was my people's leader and I left them to join Atlantis, to fight against the wraith and they were taken," felt her declaration was worth it when he stopped his departure, though he didn't turn around. "They were taken…some were murdered…by an enemy of Atlantis…an enemy of _mine._" That guilt haunted her everyday…knew it was not so much unlike this man's guilt at the loss of lives when he intended to do only good.

John turned around, faced the women whose features were tight with pain. Knew that her words cost her something but she had bared some of her soul, spoke of something painful, personal, had put trust in him he again hadn't earned. "You kill this enemy?" he quietly asked, understood the need for vengeance better than most.

Teyla didn't expect the question or the look in his eyes that told her he hoped she had found a sliver of healing. "No. I have not been able to give my people justice but I vow one day that I will."

Silence hung between them before John surprised her by offering, "I might not be a good guy…but I'm pretty good in a fight. Day you find this enemy of yours…count me in," then he left her standing there, not understanding how she came to reveal her greatest regret and why she felt touched that this stranger had just vowed to be at her side if she faced off with Michael.

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Eavesdropping on two conversations in the same day seemed low, even for him but Ronon didn't walk away until he sensed John approaching the exit to the training room. Even then he didn't skulk away but leaned against the wall, saw the man's surprise and then grimace at seeing him.

"For claiming to not be guarding me…you do a fair job of stalking me," John groused, didn't stop his journey down the hallway, knew Ronon wouldn't be deterred, would match his stride to his own. Hated that he already knew that much about the man, was getting ..he wouldn't say "attached". No "tolerant". Yeah. Was getting "tolerant" of the big guy's presence.

Ronon didn't correct the man, knew it was words he didn't need to say, said instead, "You're bleeding."

John didn't look to his shoulder, felt the stickiness of the blood, heck had felt the punch that had tore most of the stitching out…like the first two he threw into the bag in his rage of once again not seeing how he was a pawn in this "war". Now he had been told that he had a freaking alien cell floating in his blood that made him…what had Dr. Beckett said, "This genetic code initiates programs, is the only way to fly their ships, you can even open doors, effect the lights in Atlantis. Getting a natural high count member to the team like you will be quite the boon for the expedition…" the doctor praised before he got a look at John's stony expression and tried to backtrack, ended up outright lying to him. "I mean, not like your gene is strongest or…it's weak actually. Will hardly be an asset to …" John hadn't waited around for the lies to continue.

John knew undoubtedly that Ronon's bodyguarding/stalking right then was connected to that revelation and his none too happy reaction. "So I'm part _alien_ and you didn't think I needed to know that?!" he bit out, not looking to the man, didn't want to read the lie on Ronon's face, to know how foolish he had been to have grudgingly…maybe unknowingly started to put his trust in the other man.

Ronon shrugged. "I don't have the gene, none of my people have it. It's not something I give much thought to."

Sheppard indignantly rounded on him, "Except it's the only way I can fly _any_ ships there! You knew…McKay knew...that was what I wanted most and you…ooops, forgot that small criteria that I might not have even had!"

Ronon was nonplussed. "You have the gene, so you can fly the ships. You'll get what you want."

John shook his head, Ronon made it sound so black and white. "And McKay..he gets what he wants most importantly, right? I thought it was just this clone thing that got me this ticket but now it's also this stupid gene…damn it…none of this is even about me! No wonder McKay didn't care what a screw up I am…I'm just a specimen to him, another piece of equipment …like a freaking laptop."

"Good thing I value my laptops very highly then," Rodney drawled as he turned the corner to confront Sheppard's anger face to face…like Beckett had insisted he do.

"Screw you!" John growled, went to brush by McKay but the scientist stepped into his path, his features wearing that no- nonsense expression he sported when he ripped John apart in the Area 51 interrogation room.

"Yes, you having the Ancient Gene is important," Rodney bluntly admitted. "Yes I'm excited to see you put it to use…did I know you even had the gene when I went off book and told you about the Wraith program, broke every protocol we have in place…no. Didn't know it when Ronon beamed down to that desolate stretch of Mojave Desert to find you or when we utilized every bit of medical and miracle voodoo we had to keep you alive. Only when you were out of danger of dying did Carson test you for the gene, when I was already talking to the powers that be about you joining the stargate program. I thought I could use that as leverage …"

"…To get me to join your team," John bitterly supplied but McKay patiently corrected him.

"Leverage to entice Dr. Weir into letting you join the Atlantis expedition. She's enthralled with the Ancients, thinks their genetic code is fascinating. Honestly, I don't think it's really all that astonishing, any more than genetic dark skin."

Ronon snorted at McKay's condescension, ducked close to John's ear and mock whispered, "That's because he doesn't have the gene."

Not losing stride to his argument, McKay drolly insisted, "Which proves my point that it doesn't impede those of us with astronomically high IQs from being even more invaluable to Atlantis than someone toking around this magic bean gene in his DNA."

"See, McKay picked you for his team in spite of you having the gene," Ronon glibly told Sheppard, destroying the man's belief that the gene was responsible for his acceptance into the expedition. Didn't tell this Sheppard that his own Sheppard had gotten the nod to join only _because_ of his gene..that he had to prove his worth, daily. But this John would have his own prejudices to disprove and hard lessons to learn.

John looked between the two men who were stubbornly backing him every step of the way on this ludicrous journey. And they weren't deterred by his anger or insecurities, or the fact that everyone else knew he was a bad bet but them. Crap but he wanted to be worth it, to not let them be the laughing stock of this unit for having faith in him. They deserved better from him than that. Better than him expecting at every turn for them to be using him, to betray him, to kick him to the curb like his family had.

Letting his shoulders drop from their defense stance, John apologized, "Sorry…when Dr. Beckett told me I had the gene…I jumped to conclusions."

"Like you thinking I was going to stuff you into a black site," McKay teased with a smirk and Ronon did a bad job of hiding his snort of laughter behind a clearing of his throat.

"Ok, so I'm not used to …not having crappy things happen," John awkwardly said, as close as he was willing to get to admitting that he was starting to think of all of this as a good thing.

"Again, your standards for calling something good is idiotically low," McKay drawled in exaspearation. "Maybe you missed the part where you're bleeding…again. You know normal people would consider that a black mark on a day, have it cross right over to a bad day zone."

"Not necessarily," John and Ronon said in synch, looked at each other a beat before breaking out into smiles.

"Oh just great, now I have two macho idiots on my team," Rodney bemoaned even as he gently snagged John's arm and started towing him in the direction of the infirmary. "Better get Carson to patch you up again but once we get there, you're on your own. I'm not walking into that lion's den. He already reamed me out for not telling you about the gene and I'm not taking the blame for you tearing out your stitches."

"Our fearless leader," Ronon mocked but it was a look of mirth he shot McKay.

But John was stuck on the "our" in Ronon's taunt, like they were already a team, he and Ronon, he and Ronon and McKay, even Teyla hadn't carved him up when she had the opening and that, in his book, wasn't a bad encounter for him. So "our" …he had to grudgingly admit, he liked the sound of that. But he liked even better that he wasn't going to be alone anymore.

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TBC

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Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	9. Proving Ground

Understudy

Author: Cheryl W.

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Chapter 9: Proving Ground

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It was when the Daedalus came under attack before Sheppard even _got_ to Atlantis that John began to take Dr. McKay's "there are no safe rear guard positions in the Pegasus galaxy" seriously. He was training with a Ronon Dex who was being pathetically gentle with him when the alarm sounded moments before the ship rocked under enemy fire. Ronon started to run from the room but John stood there, aching to do something but unwilling to be in the way, to overstep his tenuous "trial run" as a member of the Stargate program, (his thoughts, not any of McKay's words).

Sensing that Sheppard wasn't at his side, Ronon stopped, looked back to see the man standing in the training room looking tense and frustrated and a bit lost. John's vulnerability hit a chord with Ronon. "We're up buddy," he announced, felt relieved when John's dark expression lighted into a so very familiar bittersweet 'let's give 'em heck' lopsided smile. Then the man was matching his hurried stride. Ok, Ronon usually would be running but he didn't want John to push himself that far, not when it had only been a little over two weeks since he'd been shot.

The ship rocked with two more assaults as they traveled the corridors, both times Ronon reached out to grab onto John, ensure the man didn't bounce off the walls and do damage to his still healing bullet wound. Claxons echoed through the ship barely letting them get a thought to stay in their head until someone squashed the alarm. Neither Dex or Sheppard needed a freaking alarm to know they were in trouble.

John was pressing his arm to his ribs that he had vowed to Dr. Beckett were 100% healed, grimacing against the stinging pain emanating from his two week old bullet wound and doing some embarrassingly loud heavy breathing by the time he and Dex entered the bridge. He took in the chaotic scene, processing what he could. There was a large organic ugly looking ship outside the bridge window and a swarm of black ships "darting" toward them. ('_Huh, guess that's where they got their name,_' he thought, certainly hadn't made the connection to the name when McKay showed him a few of them still and broken in their Wraith Museum in Area 51.

When he saw the beam of a freaking _laser_ shooting from the enemy ship, he knew he had truly stepped into some freak alien battlezone. He was trying to brace his stance for another rock and roll of the ship at the incoming hit but again Ronon coiled his arm around him and latched a hand on his elbow, was his stabilizer as the ship went askew under the enemy fire.

The commander of the Daedalus, Colonel Steven Caldwell was demanding damage assessment, ordering the navigator to jump to hyperspace, to get away from the onslaught. But he was only getting bad news in return: the corridors between the pilot quarters and the hangar bay full of 302 ships had taken a direct hit, was leaking atmosphere, their hyperspace drive had also suffered damage and was offline and to make things interesting, the darts were starting their bombing runs with not one ship out there to give them any opposition.

He heard McKay before he saw him as he ranted. "I would gladly go fix the hyperdrive but there's the matter of a fifty darts starting strafing runs along the corridor between me and the drive!" He was lashing out to that other scientist guy that McKay had had a tiff with in the Area 51 meeting room during John's visit: Radek. It seemed like they didn't ever see eye to eye.

Radek retorted back, "Yes, I'm aware! But you can talk someone through…."

Rodney's face got more irate at the suggestion. "Who?! That numbskull Kavanagh?! He's more likely to blow us up than fix anything."

Caldwell was grilling an officer, "Are you telling me there's not a single pilot able to get to the hanger bay?! Why would they all be on the other side of the …."

"Championship volleyball game, sir. You…you gave the ok…."the junior offer stammered, historically knew what happens to the bearer of bad news.

"Well that's just great. We're sitting ducks without the hyperdrive and we're just going to get picked apart by the darts," the colonel snapped back. He addressed the next to weapon's control, "Keep firing at the hive ship, make them reconsider getting closer." To another officer he growled, "Patch up my ship ! We need to get fighters to the hangar bay and McKay to engineering. I don't care if you have to make a human bridge for the pilots to walk across, get it done!"

Eyes going to the schematic of the ship, the damaged areas flaring in red on the screen, John realized the corridors from the bridge to the hanger bay were unscathed…so far. "We can make it to the hanger deck from here," he pointed out, loud and confident enough to snag a small portion of Caldwell's besieged attention.

"Yes brilliant deduction but that does us little good since…" Caldwell barked without looking at the man who had made the irrelevant statement.

"I can give the darts another target to go after instead of the Daedalus," John strategized, felt his heart thudding hard, knew this was the make it or break it moment in this whole freaking space odyssey of his. Would they trust him? Had McKay lied, or been misled, that they would let him fly? Could he trust _himself_ to not screw up again and cost more lives?

Sheppard's offer had Caldwell's head snapping up. A light seemed to go on in his head as he realized who was speaking out of turn, offering them….some _hope._

"My distraction tactics should give McKay enough time to make it to Engineering," John hoped to God that he wasn't miscalculating what they could expect out of his efforts, that he didn't get blown out of the sky/space a second after launching from the bay like some dumb, green, wet behind the ears, kid pilot. "Maybe time to patch up a path to the hanger bay so other pilots could get airborne…spaceborne…" John corrected himself, almost couldn't hold back a smirk at his new lingo..and the _chance_ to do some good…in an honest to goodness space ship. To fly again.

Steven Caldwell turned away from the useless control panels and faced the one man who might turn the tide for them. He had to admit the plan…it had the potential to have a small percentage of success…where presently, they had no other proposal that could boast that. "Looks like you're finally going to stop free loading and earn your ride, Major Sheppard."

John nodded curtly. "Yes sir" his inside churning and yet something sparking in him that he had thought had died in Afghanistan: the belief that he could get back into the fight, be worth _something_ again.

Rodney had been sure Caldwell would scoff at Sheppard's suggestion…the Colonel loved to scoff at everyone, so it took him a few moments to register the Colonel's agreement to Sheppard's suicidal proposition. Pushing to stand between Caldwell and Sheppard, he bitingly countered the Colonel's totally unacceptable approval, "What?! No?! One ship against 30 darts?! He wouldn't be a distraction, he'd be a mosquito that they swatted in 10 seconds or less!"

Trying not to take McKay's objections personally, John stepped to the left, again in the Colonel's line of sight and piped in, "I just have to buy you a few minutes. Ten….Fifteen."

Spinning around to face Sheppard, Rodney growled, "The only thing you'd be buying is the farm! No! This is not happening." Then he folded his arms like he had the final say in all of this.

But Caldwell's gaze was locked on Sheppard's, didn't see the man backing down or taking the way out McKay was providing to him. "Yes, Doctor it is happening."

A new voice added to the fray, Dr. Weir's. "Already ordering my people around like they are _your_ chess pieces, Steven?" she challenged, arching an eyebrow at the Daedalus' commander who did not have authority over her Atlantis staff, a point he kept "forgetting."

"Dr. Weir there will be no distinguishing between my crew and yours if we all become space dust!" Coldwell shot back, losing his reign on his temper like he usually did with this particular woman.

John stepped into the pissing match going on between his two superiors, but his look took in McKay and Ronon as well. "Listen! If any of you expect me to sit on my hands and get blown up without putting up a fight, you really picked the wrong guy to draft into your little alien getaway travel package! I'm here to be a part of this! To do some good even if it's the last thing I do, especially if it's the last thing I do." To Elizabeth, who he knew had the final word on giving him the green light, he implored, "Let me do this. Let me try to be worth your faith in me."

Elizabeth felt her chest tighten at Sheppard's words, that he knew her allowing him to join Atlantis, it did involve faith. Faith he needed, hers, McKay's, Ronon's. He also needed to know she trusted that their combined faith in him wasn't misplaced. Praying she wasn't sentencing him to his death needlessly, she gave her first tough decision as Atlantis's new commander: "Go. But I expect you to use your piloting expertise to full advantage and be prepared to give me a full report on the improvements you deem necessary to the 302s when you get back."

John's smile was beaming. "Yes, ma'am," he charmingly drawled then he was beginning to loop his way out of the bridge, his healing injuries and echoing pain taking second place to the adrenaline surging through him and the prospect of getting into the battle, feet first.

Watching John's departure, McKay turned to Ronon, bit out with frustration, "You were absolutely no help!? You don't want him to go as much as…Hey where are you going?!" calling after the Satedan striding out the door.

Ronon turned around walked backwards a few steps as he declared, "With him," a starting of a smile breaking across his face, the likes McKay hadn't seen before. A mix of 'They want to fight, then let's fight!' and …honest to goodness…joy. Then Ronon was out of sight, merrily tagging along with Sheppard's suicide run.

"Why do I see an ulcer in my future?" he bemoaned to himself but Weir heard him and make a reply.

"See, you already believe that Sheppard's plan will work…" At McKay's look, she clarified, "You see a future for all of us. One with you having an ulcer, yes, but a future." Then she smirked, confessed her own fears, "If it is any consolation…I see grey hairs in _my_ future and I really wanted to grow old gracefully."

SGATSGATSGATSGAT

John wasn't all that surprised when he heard size 13 feet thudding up been him. Once Ronon gained his side, the Satadan wordlessly pulled John's arm over his shoulders and loped an arm around the wounded man's waist. Though John appreciated the help because time really was of the essence and moving fast wasn't in his bag of tricks at the moment, he was waiting for the same backlash from Ronon that he had gotten from McKay. Reasons why he shouldn't do this, evidence that he couldn't do this.

When the other man remained silent and continued to aid him in the direction of his self assigned mission, John broke their silence. "Say it already."

"Say what?" though Ronon had a fair idea what Sheppard expected him to say.

"That I can't do this, boasted something I can't deliver," John pressed, starting to feel a resignation that Ronon and Rodney might be right.

"Don't know you can't do something if you never try doing it," Ronon quietly gave in reply.

"Let me guess, your _John_ said that," John moodily shot back. Thought that, on the bright side, this might be the last time anyone got him confused with his alternate universe counterpoint, maybe because he failed so tragically like that John never did…or because he was dead.

Ronon gave John as sideways look, chuckled at the man's scowl and answered, "My _grandfather_ told me that. He was a pretty wise old guy."

Sheppard's face pinked with embarrassment. Meeting Ronon's gaze, he apologized, "Oh, sorry about…disparaging your grandfather's advice."

Ronon simply shrugged, didn't take it personally. The ship began to shake and the corridor echoed with booms that Ronon knew was the darts strafing the ship, thankfully not their corridor. But Ronon knew their target was on the other side of the hangar bay and the passageway to engineering. It was as if this particular Wraith hive ship knew where to strike the Daedalus to cause the most damage. It was not a happy thought.

Fighting each step to keep his equilibrium, John was relieved to see the signs for the hangar bay. "Thanks, by the way." This earned him a questioning look from Ronon, making him clarify. "For not pointing out the low odds that this will work."

"Coming up with odds is McKay's thing. Me, I believe in fighting to my last breath."

"You might get your wish," John undertoned and then they were in the hangar, found that there were a few technicians there, waiting, hoping for some pilots to show up. Well _one_ had. Minutes later, Sheppard was dressed in flight suit (which Ronon helped him get into because John determined that his pride couldn't slow him down). Then he stood beside an honest to goodness space ship and tried to not let the awe of that moment overwhelm him. What did slow him down was the daunting task of trying to lever himself up the ladder to the 302's cockpit, the first step a little high off the ground for a guy whose body wasn't up to taking a bit of a running jump to get there.

When Ronon unceremoniously gave him a shove on the butt to lever him up to the first step, John groused at the unsolicited help, "We'll talk about personal space boundaries later!" But then he was making his way up the ladder. Reaching the cockpit, he took in the cramped quarters with glee in his figher-pilot heart. Maneuvering his legs into the cockpit, he slid into the seat, grimacing at the sharp pain in his ribs and the fiery ache in his shoulder. He was reaching for the harness but big hands were already there buckling him in. "Thanks mom," he sarcastically drawled, though he was glad for Ronon's dexterity because his own hands were shaking a bit with his dwindling energy. So yeah, _exactly_ the physical ailment he needed when his hands had to be rock steady to fly and out maneuver enemy ships so he didn't die.

He was about to bid Ronon a hasty blunt goodbye when the tall man made a surprising move by getting _into_ the rear seat of the 302. "What are you doing?! Get out!" John growled wished he could swivel around, physically grab Ronon and haul him from the ship. Him risking his life was fine and dandy. Sentencing _Ronon_ to death because of his maybe misplaced pride…no, never again would someone die because they took an ill-fated ride with him. "I don't need a copilot?!"

"That's good because I can't fly this thing," Ronon calmly stated as he clicked in his harness, wished there was some freaking leg room because his knees were practically under his chin.

Ronon's statement baffled John. "Then why are you here?!"

"Thought you'd need company," Ronon stated, as if Sheppard getting lonely was in anyway responsible for his actions. In truth, he knew _his_ John was more careful when the lives of others were at stake instead of just his own. Was all gung ho to sacrifice himself but was never willing to sacrifice anyone else. And with _this _Sheppard, Ronon honestly didn't trust the man to regard his survival as highly as Ronon did.

John didn't believe the "need company" line either, thought maybe Ronon was there to make sure he didn't screw up. Though without piloting skills, what could the other man do? Yell "watch out" or "dart on your six" like Goose in Top Gun. But thinking about Goose and his fate wasn't very helpful in that moment. Crap, now all action movies references had to be banned from his mental rolodex. "You do know this is probably a suicide mission?" he bluntly asked, his hands testing the controls, going over them in his mind, trying to remember everything the other pilots had told him about flying a 302: same maneuverability as a fighter jet without G-forces and the mother lode of weapons.

100% certain he was making the right choice, Ronon reacted to Sheppard's pessimism with a laidback, "Like I said, rather fight to my last breath. Besides, I've always wanted to be in an aerial puppy fight."

John couldn't help snort at the alien's verbal slipup. "Dog fight, not..puppy fight." Finishing his system checklist, he nodded to the technicians who were waiting for him to give them the green light and they walked away. That left him alone in a spaceship with a space alien from another galaxy. A really stubborn space alien. "You're not leaving are you?" he long-sufferingly asked of his stowaway.

"No," Ronon firmly gave in answer, reached forward and gave John's uninjured shoulder a squeeze of encouragement, of the '_I'm here with you and not going anywhere_' sentimentally he would never voice and the other man wouldn't want him to.

Knowing Ronon was trusting him to not get him dead, that Caldwell, Weir, McKay…heck everyone onboard the Daedalus was counting on him to pull this off, he took a steadying breath and eased the 302 off the flight deck and headed her out of the opening hangar bay. '_You wanted to fly, John…better watch what you wish for,_' he thought to himself and then he sent the 302 soaring into space. Exhilaration surged though his soul and he felt like he was coming back to life after being dead for so long.

"Ok, let's get these jackoffs attention, shall we?" and Ronon heard a so familiar tone of boyish cocky excitement in Sheppard's voice that it hurt and yet made him smile. This John really wasn't so different from his own. When things were at their worst….his John managed to do the impossible to turn things around. Just like he wholeheartedly knew that this John was about to do the same type of miracle.

True to his word, Sheppard got the darts very interested in him by brazenly barreling toward the horde of them, unleashing laser fire as he came. Three wraith ships ignited into scrape metal under his assault and Sheppard dove through the flames of their wreckage, hitting other ships with his firepower as he went. Jerking the lithe 302 on its side, the darts' strikes harmlessly slid by them on either side. Then John had the ship diving straight down and Ronon could see by the monitors that a string of darts were taking the bait and following him, were abandoning their strafing runs of the Daedalus corridor leading to engineering.

"McKay get your butt moving," Ronon growled under his breath, hoping the Doctor wasn't wringing his hands, wondering if he needed an all clear signal. Thinking he just might, Ronon keyed in his radio, "McKay go! The darts aren't targeting the engineering wing anymore."

"Roger that, Dex," came Caldwell's reply.

The 302 rocked under a hit barely absorbed by the ship's shield but John used that instability to arch right before coming to a full stop, causing the pursuing darts to fly by him. He merrily blasted them to kingdom come. But standing still had its cost and another couple hits sent the ship spinning. Gripping the 302's controls with both hands, John wrestled the craft back to straight flying, only to zip under the Daedalus a moment later. Flying close to the ship's contours, he charged right through the darts attacking the corridors to the hangar bay. Couldn't help smiling as he saw some of the darts following him had pancaked right into their buddies, just like he hoped they would.

Then he had to dodge more ships. Surging high this time, he hoped some of the new darts picked up the chase, were drawn away from their attack on the corridors to the hangar bay. Because, he knew he wasn't going to last much longer out there solo, not when his shields were dropping down below 30%. And even if he was ok going out in a blaze of glory, he didn't want that fate for Ronon. Before he could contact the Daedalus and tell them now was the time for other pilots to make a run for the hangar, Ronon beat him to it.

"Caldwell, get some pilots up here to help him!" Ronon commanded to a man far outranking him. Wondered if anyone noted he didn't say to help _them_, had only asked help for Sheppard, because Sheppard's survival was his priority, not his own.

When another hit caught its wing, the 302 ship began to roll and roll and roll. Ronon closed his eyes hoping not to hurl, hoped as well that John _hadn't_ closed **his** eyes.

"I hope you're grading your first puppy fight on a curve," John joked and Ronon smiled, knew that was Sheppard speak for '_I'm not quitting anytime soon_.'

Shutting off the damaged left side engine, John got the 302 stabilized again but knew he was down to basic moves now. But the darts didn't have to know that. "How about some bluffing? You up for that?"

"John said I always had a terrible "poker face"," Ronon confessed, thought honest might be called for in this junction of do or die battle.

But there was cocky mirth in John's voice instead of disappointment when he made his reply. "Well, lucky for you, I'm good at bluffing. It was the quitting while I was ahead that I stank at." He just never knew when to walk away, to not buy into the notion that he'd get a _bigger_ win the next deal. Then again, maybe he hadn't given a crap if he lost everything, though it was only what he deserved. But today, today he cared very much if he lost, _who_he lost.

Ronon just had to ask, "And are we ahead?"

John laughed outright at the innocent question from his "co-pilot". "Not even if we were doing penny antes."

And Ronon knew that he was right, John wasn't walking away from the fight, instead was gearing up to take it to the next level. "Guess we can't quit yet."

"Nope, guess not. Hang on," John advised but Ronon's hands were already latched onto anything he could with a white knuckled grip. Then John did a loop that sent them on a course _away_ from the Daedalus and heading _**right for**_ the hive ship. "I _really_ hope Captain Lorne hadn't exaggerated this ship's payload. He said something about…drones…"

Ronon liked the sound of a drone right about then. "Yeah, might be time for one of those. You think it where you want it to go."

"I what now?!" John retorted, hated when people tried to make things sound easy that was actually really really complicated.

"I'm not sure how you just…." Ronon broke off as he realized he shouldn't gloss over this, didn't want Sheppard to feel overwhelmed or belittled because he was coming at this for the first time, under _extreme _pressure. '_I wish someone else was here who had the gene, could do a better job of explaining all this to him,'_ Ronon apprehensively thought but Sheppard only had him and they were running out of time. Patience interwoven in his tone the likes none of his spar partners had ever been graced with, Ronon instructed, "Put your hands on the console and think…I guess think about releasing the drone, of a missile being fired, of where you want it to land."

"Preferably not on us, right?" Sheppard wise cracked because that was how he preferred to deal with stress.

Ronon smirked. "Yeah, not on us."

"Crazy sci-fi mind games," John irritably grumbled under his breath but began to do as Ronon suggested. Laying his hand on the control console, he felt ridiculous, like he was having a _moment_ with the ship. Here he was feeling up a motherboard while there were enemy ships on his tail were really _pissed _that he was heading for their home base. Their hits were quaking the 302's frame and taking his little fighter space ship's defensive shield down to a measly 10%. "Ok, drone, do your thing and rip a nice big hole in that…." he said aloud, not really believing in any of this nonsense until, in stunned surprise, he saw something like a blobby missile zing out of his ship and arch toward the hive ship. "I don't believe it! There's …it's…."

Ronon's tone was all proud confidence. "You did it, Sheppard," his hand coming to pat John on the back as the drone found its target, hit the hive ship and disintegrated its besieged shield. "Send another one."

"Ah…ok, I did this…" John put his hand back on the console. "And then said…" but the second drone was already launched. Then there was an explosion this time to the rear left side of the hive ship.

John and Ronon let out a cheer….right before another barrage of dart fire hit their remaining engine and the control stick went stiff under John's efforts.

"Crap, we're dead in the water," John announced the bad news, dread drenching him that he had done it again. Condemned others to die because he thought he knew best, could save someone instead of only bringing death. He was about to offer a heartbroken useless apology to Dex for getting him killed when the man spoke, but not to him.

"Daedalus, how about beaming us aboard?" Ronon calmly asked, like he didn't get that they were seconds away from meeting their maker.

It took John a moment to get what Ronon was asking of the Daedalus, to run it through his new dictionary of space travel terminology. And then, when he came up with a translation, he nervously protested "Beaming?! Hey, I don't know ..can't someone come out and pick us up…" just as a tingling sensation coursed through his body. Then he was falling right through the 302's seat! And ended up landing butt first onto the solid floor of the Daedalus bridge.

Realizing where he inexplicable was, his eyes flew behind him He felt immeasurable relief to see Ronon was there too and still in one piece. "Crap…beaming..that's really a thing? Like beam me up Scotty?!"

"Thought you didn't watch science fiction shows?" Elizabeth Weir taunted, as she crouched down beside him with a teasing smile, her hand giving a reassuring squeeze to his ankle.

"Saw that quote on a tshirt…" John numbly denied. Then his mind brought everything up to speed and he jerked his head up, found Colonel Caldwell and urgently demanded, "The hyperdrive? The other pilots?"

"McKay's working on the hyperdrive and the other pilots aren't needed, the darts are heading home," Caldwell reported, nodding to the view screen at John's back.

Not trusting himself to spin around to look out the viewport and not fall over, John took Caldwell's word for it on the darts' retreat. "So did we buy you enough…" he was about to say 'time' when the hyperdrive kicked in and the ship under him did that freeze, fast forward motion and leaped through space. Knowing that was a very good thing, he bowed his head on his knees, just raw with relief that he hadn't gotten Ronon killed and hadn't let people down with another one of his piss poor doomed plans.

He felt grounded when Ronon's big hand came to rest on his head and the man came to crouch by his side. "You did good, Sheppard," Ronon quietly praised, words he had never said to his own Sheppard somehow thinking he hadn't needed to hear them. '_But maybe he did. Maybe he had better walls to hide his insecurities than his Sheppard does but that doesn't mean those insecurities weren't there. That he didn't need me to tell him how proud I was of him, always was of him. How proud, honored I was to stand at his side, to be his friend, his brother.' _So he said them now, to this Sheppard..and, in the quiet of his heart, he said them also to his own John. "I'm proud of you, Sheppard," he declared by John's ear, for the man's hearing alone.

John stilled at the praise, didn't remember anyone ever being proud of him. Looking up, he saw that not only Ronon but Elizabeth and the whole freaking bridge staff was looking at him. '_And I'm huddled on the floor. Great impressions, you're always the best at making great impressions, John,'_ he taunted himself then began to climb to his feet, didn't bulk at Ronon's help even with an audience because falling on his face, it wasn't better than huddling on the floor, was much worse.

He straightened his stance when Colonel Caldwell came toe to toe with him. "Colonel."

"Honestly, I thought they were only bringing you along to flip on Ancient tech, be the protected prince in line for the thrown," Caldwell bluntly said, causing Dr. Weir to heatedly protest his honesty.

"Colonel Caldwell, you are speaking to someone under _my command_ and I expect you to treat him with respect, especially considering he just saved all our collective lives!" Weir scathingly retorted.

But Caldwell didn't bother responding to Weir, continued his stare down with Major Sheppard. "Today you proved me wrong. You have a place on my ship, Major, if you ever want it."

"Which he doesn't!" McKay forcefully declined the offer for John. Still huffing and puffing from his full out run to the bridge to see if John's ship had been blown out of the atmosphere, he had staggered onto the bridge to find John and Ronon alive and well and Caldwell trying to steal John away from him. So not happening! Crossing over to Sheppard, he wrapped a possessive hand around the man's elbow and began leading him out of the bridge. Ronon positioned himself on John's other side and, sensing that Sheppard's strength was down to the dregs after his little excursion, loped his arm around John's waist.

They were only a few strides down the hallway when Weir called behind them: "To the infirmary, gentlemen and no going AWOL, Major."

"Yes, Ma'am," John dutifully called over his shoulder and gave a wave as the threesome kept meandering down the hallway. When he was certain that they were out of Dr. Weir's earshot, John said under his breath to Ronon, "We really aren't going to Beckett. I just need to sit down somewhere for a bit."

But it was McKay who answered in a high pitch ranting tone, "Right, sure, you just need to sit down?! You were in a space battle, you're pale as a ghost, are listing against me and, oh right, got _shot_ two weeks ago."

"More like three weeks," Ronon helpfully corrected.

John wagged his finger at Ronon in agreement. "Right, yes, that was _three weeks_ ago. So I'm just fine to take a breather in my room."

McKay, always loving to correct misinformation, shot back, "Actually, if we're nitpicking, it was _sixteen days_ since you were shot and subsequently _died._ And the only place you're taking a breather is in the infirmary."

"Ronon," John piteously began, hoping to find an ally against McKay and Weir's insistence.

But Ronon's smirk gave his answer before he gave an insincere, "Sorry buddy."

Accepting that he wasn't getting out of a trip to the infirmary, John grumbled like a five year old, "Ah crap," because he'd come to realize, amazingly, that Dr. Beckett did care about him and that meant there definitely would be a reaming out for his "heroics". Especially since it ended up with him being in pain, regardless that the other option of him staying safe on the sidelines would have had them all being dead about then.

"Yup, doc's going to yell at you," Ronon agreed with amusement to John's unspoken thoughts as they made the turn to head for the infirmary.

"You'll back me up, right? Tell Dr. Becket that it was necessary, life or death. Right?" he demanded of Ronon but Ronon's smirk said it all. The man would go on a suicide run with him but when it came to facing off with an angry Scottish doctor, he was on his own. "Oh, come on! And I was going to teach you how to fly the 302s and everything!"

Ronon tilted his head in surprise at what John was offering him. "Why teach me that?"

"Maybe so you didn't have to be a helpless backseat driver? Could have taken over today if I lost consciousness, got killed." John couldn't believe Ronon didn't _want_ those safeguards, especially after he had got them dead in the water out there. "I can't believe your John didn't teach you." A bit miffed at that John for his oversight, for not protecting Ronon as much as he could have by giving him that skill set.

McKay nervously looked to Ronon, didn't know how the man would react to the judgey tone this Sheppard was speaking about _his S_heppard. Ronon looked…not angry but contemplative, spoke after a moment.

"Piloting was his thing and the ships on Atlantis…they only operate for those with the Ancient gene."

John was only partially appeased by that answer. "Well, if you want, I'll teach you to fly the 302s." But then he pointed a finger at Ronon, gave his prerequisite, "But only if you defend our little flight just now to Dr. Beckett."

Honored at the serious offer amid the joking bargaining chip, Ronon found he was also touched that Sheppard thought he _could_ learn to pilot the 302s, could do what John just had done, save their lives with his skill and guts. "Guess I could protect you from Beckett…" Ronon agreed to John's terms before he stipulated, "…but only if my first lessons is how to blow darts up with the 302 weapons."

John's smile was beaming as he readily accepted that deal. "I can make that happen."

"Yeah, well, like I told you last time, I'm still not standing between you and Beckett's ranting and raving. Go ahead and sarcastically call me your "fearless leader" but I have no desire to have large needles included in my checkup this month," McKay announced.

"Large needles are the least of your problems. I foresee a dessert shortage for you," John predicted with a wink to Ronon.

McKay almost stumbled to a stop before he remembered he was helping John stay on his feet and ushering him toward the infirmary. "Dessert?! Shortage…what are you…"

"You pissed off Colonel Caldwell and he seems like a man who knows how to hit you where it hurts," John said with as much seriousness as he could manage without breaking into a smirk.

"Pissed off…no we…he offered…wanted to…" Rodney tried to deny but he fell silent as he realized that he had spoken unprofessionally to Caldwell when the Colonel made that offer to Sheppard. He paled as it hit him that he had disrespected the Colonel in front of the man's entire bridge crew. "Oh crap. You really think…desserts? Really?!" John and Ronon both smirked at him in answer.

It took a moment, but Rodney bravely relented to his fate. "Oh well, I should lose a few pounds anyways," he acknowledged, because regardless of what Caldwell believed, it would have been far harsher punishment if the man actually did steal Sheppard away from him, no, well, from _Atlantis._

Surprised at McKay's acceptance of his made up punishment, John patted Rodney on the chest and vowed, "Don't worry, McKay, if that punishment goes into effect, I'll give you all my desserts." At Rodney's lit up expression, he couldn't help tease, "Except the brownies. They are all mine."

"Oh come on! You know they are my favorite!" Rodney whined.

John laughed at McKay's antics, didn't mind that it hurt just a little bit to laugh. Today had been a good day, no, a _great day_. He had gotten into a cockpit again, fought bad guys and won, didn't let anyone die on his watch and …was spending time with people who, regardless of all his walls, he had come to truly care about. And, more astoundingly and humbling, they liked him back.

But today they did one better. Today they had faith in his abilities, had put their lives, their full _trust _in him.

As the enormity of their trust hit him, he sent up a fervent pray: _'Please God, don't let me fail them. Don't let me ever fail them.'_

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TBC

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Thanks for reading and I'm sending out my love to my awesomely kind reviewers. You keep me plugging away thinking of new tortures for my lovelies. Did I say torture?! I'm sure I meant thrilling bromance adventures.

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	10. The Lost City

Understudy

Author: Cheryl W.

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Chapter 10: The Lost City

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Getting his first look at Atlantis from the viewport of the Daedalus, John didn't expect it to affect him like it did, to awe him…and to call to him. It was reminiscent of his first copter ride as a child, where he ached to grab the stick from the pilot and go higher and zigzag through the sky, for the ride to never end.

McKay joined him as the Daedalus began docking procedures.

"Awe-inspiring isn't it? Course it was a month before I got this view, until we learned there were ships here that we could use to fly above the city. We entered through the stargate and that was…even more remarkable because of the technology, the other worldly structures, not to mention the whole city was underwater at that point," Rodney reminisced.

"Guess that's where the legend comes from," John murmured, leaning forward so he could see the tops of the city's towers as the Daedalus glided by them. The ship gave a gentle shake as she touched ground and John nervously fisted his hands, knew everything would change, again, as soon as he left the Daedalus.

There truly was no going back now.

Sensing the man's unease, Rodney put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "You'll fit right in here, I promise. You'll like it."

John turned to McKay and sardonically drawled, "Thought you warned me 'here be dangers, enter at your own risk'".

Undeterred, McKay merely matched Sheppard's mocking tone. "Oh, that was good. But it would have been more impressive with a pirate's accent, an "ah matey" and if you were wearing an eye patch."

John smirked in spite of himself and followed McKay as he headed toward the hangar deck. Felt immeasurably better when he spotted Ronon and came to the man's side before the hangar door opened into his new "home."

They had a greeting party waiting for them as soon as they debarked. Ok the presentation wasn't for them but for Dr. Weir, as she was installed as the new leader of Atlantis. There were saluting and introductions from the people circling their entrance point. John stood back, waiting for the hoopla to die down, not wanting to be noticed, wanted to fly under the radar as much and as long as he could. Which lasted…oh five minutes.

Even if he hadn't heard the introductions made to Elizabeth, _('Dr. Weir'_ John irritably corrected himself, knew their chance encounter had made things seem familiar between them but he couldn't forget her position now, that he should never address her as anything but Dr. Weir here.) Right, so even if he hadn't heard the introductions, he knew the officer cutting through the debarking crew to confront him was Colonel Sumner by his rank insignia, the way the military officers saluted him as they scurried out of his way …and the righteous animosity blazing in his eyes as they seared into him as he drew closer.

John stiffened his stance and prepared for the onslaught.

Getting right up to John's face, Colonel Sumner growled, "So you're him, huh?" clearly not impressed with the reinstated Major.

John didn't salute, knew the Colonel would take it as salt in his festering wound of having to put up with him under his command. Choose to not react to the challenge, instead he held Sumner's gaze steadily and braced himself for what he knew was coming next.

Sumner jerked his head contemptuously to McKay and Ronon, who hadn't wisely abandoned his side but instead closed up ranks to be nearly shoulder to shoulder with him, and bit out, "Just because you look like someone_ they_ took a shine to from another universe, that doesn't make you him, worth their trust. Heck, I've seen my fair share of Elvis impersonators, don't make any of them the king."

John didn't want the Colonel to know the direct hit he had made with his assessment, even with his choice of comparison. That John _knew_ he wasn't those other Johns, never would be, that Ronon and McKay were fooling themselves that he could ever be worthy of their trust. "Aw, comparing me with Elvis. Gotta say, I'm touched, Colonel Sumner," John drawled.

"Oh crap," McKay muttered under his breath at John's defiant snarky comeback.

Sumner closed in the meager space between them, so near that he and Sheppard were practically breathing the same air. He was obviously fighting the urge to grab the Major by the neck and squeeze, tightly. "I'm comparing you with a _good _man, not someone who got people dead because he thought **he** knew best. The other John Sheppards these two gentlemen knew, neither of them was callous with the lives of others, not like you are."

John had wanted someone to be honest with him, to stop seeing him in the shadow of the other Sheppards, to see him for what he was…but now he knew he hadn't been ready to get that wish granted. Having run away to Vegas and buried his past for years and now stripped from the rose colored glasses Ronon and McKay saw him with, he had forgotten what being hated felt like. The death threats and the beatings and the slap of one of the dead soldier's widows had landed when he tried to give her his condolences.

Protective instincts and fury vying for supremacy within him, Ronon gave an almost inhuman growl and went for Sumner. Rodney foolishly tried to block him but Ronon effortlessly shoved him away. Then it was John stepping into his path, putting a restraining hand on the Satedan's chest, their eyes clashing.

"It's Ok, Ronon. He's not wrong," John quietly pointed out.

"The hell he isn't," Ronon spit out, eyes boring roiling hatred into Sumner's.

Sumner came up behind John, spoke in the man's ear but his voice carried easily to Ronon and McKay. "Let me make myself clear, Major. You are NOT here by my choice."

John turned to face his superior, pulled on a goading smile. "Never would have guessed that, sir. You've made me feel so welcome."

Sumner clamped his hand down on John's shoulder, the one he had taken the bullet round in and gripped hard, causing John to grimace. "Remember who's giving the orders on this expedition!"

Feeling Ronon crowding him from behind, knew the man wanted to make a run at Sumner again, John put a restraining hand back to halt Ronon's charge. Then, with a voice a bit choked with pain, John retorted, "The one giving orders, leading this base …that would be Dr. Weir, right?" John wasn't backing down one iota, because he wouldn't let this guy scare him off. Found he wanted to be there, with Ronon and McKay…on Atlantis, now that he'd seen her.

Sumner gave another punishing squeeze to John's shoulder before he walked away.

John tried to downplay the confrontation. "Well, now that the awkward first meeting part's over…"

"You alright? Your shoulder…" Ronon worriedly asked, gently gripping John's elbow, stopping the man from skittering away from him, had seen the man's response to concern enough to predict his reaction.

"It needed a little tenderizing, loosened it right up," John quipped, didn't try to break from Ronon's hold mostly because he knew he couldn't.

"You should have let me rip his head from his shoulders!" Ronon fumed but McKay was the voice of reason.

"Right, because **that** would have solved so many things," Rodney sarcastically interjected before predicting. "I can see it now. After you did that, the so good natured Colonel would have apologized profusely to Sheppard and they'd be getting beers in the next offworld bar they could find."

Ronon pointed a menacing finger to McKay. "I didn't see you doing anything?!"

"Hey I don't need my honor defended!" John interrupted the brewing feud between the two men before stalking off, only realized half way across the deck that he had no idea where he was going. Crap but this was going even worse than he envisioned. _'That's because this isn't right. You shouldn't be here. Sumner knows you don't belong here and just like you should have before you said yes to coming here, joining this…team. And Sumner had been right, you aren't a team player. Had proved that point in the military and on the police force.'_

He nearly startled when a young voice spoke from his left. "Looks like you and the Colonel got to know each other." He looked to see Lt. Ford, who he had met briefly on the Daedalus, coming to walk beside him. "Colonel Sumner's not a hearts and flowers leader but he's seen us through some really bad situations."

'_I didn't think he was here for his winning personality,_' John wanted to retort, said instead, "Sounds like the right kind of leader for Atlantis." Because he and Sumner might not like each other but John respected an officer that saved lives. '_So unlike your track record_.'

Ford smiled but said nothing. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the two men that seemed wholly devoted to the Major trailing them. "Hey, I'll take your bag to your quarters so Dr. McKay can give you the ten cent tour he's dying to take you on."

"Oh, he's _super_ at giving tours," John remarked, remembered McKay's playing tour guide at Area 51 and how much fun interacting with their psycho, mind reading, future predicting Wraith pet had been. Ford snagged his light bag of meager belongings and stalked off before he agreed to the arrangement. Then he was again flanked by McKay and Ronon, wondered if they expected him to apologize when Rodney spoke.

"We'll start at the gate room. Then I know you'll want to see the gate ships. From there my labs and the training rooms and …." McKay excitedly outlined the tour he had mapped out in his head.

"Then food," Ronon cut in. McKay shot him a look before conceding, because hey, he never turned down food, strictly because of his low blood sugar issue naturally. "Right then food. After supper we'll…"

And Rodney kept up a running commentary the entire trek through numerous hallways, in elevator like transporters and finally to their first official stop on the tour: the gateroom. To say John was impressed was an understatement. As timing would have it, they walked in when the gate was being activated for a mission. He stood there utterly enthralled as the wall of waterish stuff filled the circle then plumed forward, which he totally didn't jump at, before it settled back and stayed shimmering in the circle. Then the team, "gate team" walked through the watery wall and disappeared from sight. "Holy crap."

McKay was beaming at his reaction. "See, totally worth the trip, right?"

John pointed at the gate that now was back being a big circle in the room that he could see through to the back wall. "And they went…to another gate…on another planet?"

"I could bore you with the mechanics again but…basically, yes." Rodney caught Ronon's smirk and knew the man was making fun of the fact that he was a little disappointed to not explain every scientific detail that made the gate work. "Don't you have guns to clean or Marines to break in the training room?"

"Nope," Ronon denied with a smile, didn't confess that he had no intentions of abandoning John during his first hours there.

McKay rolled his eyes at Ronon then was leading John up the stairs to the gate control station.

It was an area of Atlantis that, honestly, bored Ronon to tears. So he walked over to the railing and leaned against it, was content to watch from a distance so he didn't have to hear McKay ramble on about every single control panel Atlantis had. From the way Sheppard started walking between all the consoles as McKay talked, he didn't appear that fascinated either but Ronon didn't doubt the man was still taking in all the details McKay was droning on about. That was another thing the same about this Sheppard: he was so darn smart but didn't show it, let his intelligence be a secret he kept until he needed to reveal that he had processed all the intel with lightning speed.

As for John, he wondered if McKay was even taking in a breath he was rambling on for so long. Crystals to control the gate, destination sequences, environmental controls, shield for Atlantis, tracking of the space around Atlantis. He was impressed, even if didn't show it. Wondered over to a control dusty with disuse and absentmindedly ran his fingers through the dirty film, didn't expect the darn thing to light up like a freaking Christmas tree. "Oh crap," he muttered as he stepped back, his hands up innocently in the air as every eye in the control room turned to him. "I just touched it…I didn't mean to…make it do… whatever it's doing now."

"What did you do?!" McKay demanded, but there was awe in his tone instead of anger as he began running his hands almost lovingly above the console like it was a genie in a bottle he was both anticipating and scared to awaken.

"Touched it," John meekly admitted, knew it was pointless to deny that. He never could resist touching things, especially when there were signs forbidding him to do so. Suddenly he was crowded in on all sides as everyone wanted to gawk at the lighted control panel and theories started being thrown around about what the controls could do.

Alarmed at the sudden hubbub centered around Sheppard, Ronon headed for the other man. None too gently shoved aside the people three deep circling Sheppard until he was at the man's side. "What's wrong? What's happened?"

McKay answered before John had to, astonishment still evident in his tone, "He's initiated this console that's been dead for five years. Well, more like ten thousand five years. He just….touched it."

Ronon relaxed when he realized the fuss was over nothing, that no one was trying to hurt Sheppard. "It's his Ancient gene," he stated matter-of-factly, though McKay should have realized that. Turning to John, he saw the man's rigid stance. "You'll get used to using your gene to activate things."

John nodded, trying to process it all but things weren't making sense. "Yeah, read the briefing but…there's …what? 100 personnel here who have the gene either naturally or synthetically. Why didn't they turn on the console?"

Radek, who had abandoned his tour guide duties to Dr. Weir to join the excitement, drawled, "You think we didn't try?! That Rodney didn't try a hundred times with his knock off gene?!"

McKay stiffly corrected his fellow scientist, "I tried five times…ok less than ten. Everyone tried, including Carson."

"Sheppard's…" Ronon felt all eyes on him but met John's because it was him that this would impact the most, "Well my John Sheppard had the strongest gene on Atlantis. Seems that's true with this Sheppard too."

Radek readily agreed with Ronon's conjecture, like he had made the detection himself. "Yes, very true." To McKay he enthused, "Do you know how many systems might be accessible to us now, even the locked parts of the city?! He's the key." Then he bestowed a look on Sheppard like he was the newest scientific gadget he'd discovered in one of Atlantis' dusty rooms.

And that right there was the look John had dreaded: getting the 'lab rat who stupidly came to a scientific convention' look. The noise level increased as the geeks all speculated how they'd utilize said lab rat. When John felt a tug on his elbow, in relief he saw that it was Ronon offering him a way out and he wasn't stupid enough to pass on his chance to escape. The two men slipped away unnoticed as the scientists continued to gush on merrily.

There was bustling in the hallways they traveled but no one gave John much notice. Ronon, however, they made a point to skirt far out of his way, some even shoulder-checking the opposite wall so they didn't inadvertently bump into the tall, muscled man. "Seems like you have your own reputation here?" John concluded at the apparent fear the man evoked in the crew. Which John found…amusing, considering he had thought of Ronon as a big teddy bear when he woke up in the infirmary on the Daedalus with him at his side, being all nice and gentle and protective.

Ronon merely grunted in answer, honestly hadn't made any efforts to befriend any of the other crewmembers, liked it just fine that they steered clear of him. He hadn't wanted attachments. '_Yeah and now that Sheppard's here, all those safety walls are blown to rubble.' _But he couldn't seriously begrudge the outcome: having Sheppard with him was worth the risk of caring for him, just like his John was.

Taking Ronon's nonverbal response as a keepout, John respected that, was content to let silence stand between them as Ronon led him onto another level of Atlantis. When that journey ended up in a hangar bay many stories high and filled with ships McKay had called "gate ships", he felt like he had hit the jackpot he never raked in at the Red Rock Casino. Forgetting the lessons learned in the gateroom, he couldn't resist touching the closest ship, could have sworn he felt a hum of energy under his finger pads. "Can I?" he petitioned, pointing to the viewport of the ship.

Ronon couldn't help smiling at the child-like enthusiasm pouring off of Sheppard, so much like his best friend. "Didn't bring you here to tease you." Then he rounded to the back of the ship, which opened when John approached. Ronon loved seeing John take in the little ship's every detail before stepping inside, going for the ship's console like it was a drug calling to him. When John sank into the pilot's chair, the ship came alive but John wasn't startled, he was too busy grinning ear to ear. With his hand hovering above the controls, the view screen filled with aerodynamic schematics that apparently John had wondered about. "It's …way cooler than the 302s. Sure they have maneuverability and speed but this baby…she and I are …I just wondered about…and the screen …and I didn't flip anything and the engine…." John enthused, so like the giddy scientists they had both run from that Ronon chuckled, causing a rueful and embarrassed look to crease John's features. The ship abruptly shut down and the interior fell dark.

"I'm acting ….unprofessional and childish and …It's embarrassing," John muttered, standing up to leave the ship, admonishing himself to be stoic and in control, to not let all this sparkly engine interaction blind him to why they had brought him there: to be part of their war, to turn on consoles and ships and, if necessary, die defending this city. But Ronon didn't let him escape, blocked his exit by sitting on the arm of the one of the "backseat" chair of the cockpit.

"Maybe you noticed but McKay and the others were practically breaking into a livinic." At John's confused look, Ronon clarified, "A dance best done a few beers in." John felt his shame melt away and he gave a nod, knew Ronon was giving him a pass for his kid like response to the ship, a pass Sumner would not offer to him. That sobered him again and he sighed, ran a hand down his face. "Just because I turned on some dusty console, that doesn't mean Sumner wasn't right about me, about the risk you're taking having me here."

"He doesn't know you," Ronon growled, angry all over again for the Colonel's words to John, who had apparently taken them to heart.

But John gave a shake of his head, sadly countered, "Neither do you. One right deed doesn't absolve the blood on my hands."

Ronon wanted to protest that but knew he couldn't, that John wouldn't accept his absolution, anymore than he could free himself of guilt for failing his home planet. Quietly he posed, "You think my Sheppard didn't make mistakes? Didn't have blood on his hands?" though it pained him to shed his friend in poor light, he knew he had to make this Sheppard realize that everyone failed, everyone had to deal with lives lost here in the Pegasus galaxy, that there were no easy victories in this war. He could see his questions, his implications stunned the man. "John had regrets…sins he wanted absolution for, just like you do. I didn't follow him because he was perfect…none of us did."

"Then why did you follow him? Why did you want me to be his replacement so damn badly if you knew I was a screw up even worse than he was?" John harshly demanded, couldn't believe now Ronon was cutting the crap about his hero worship, now when he couldn't fold his hand and go home, admit it was a terrible play coming there.

"Because he didn't give up, because he gave me…_us_ hope when things were at their worst," Ronon answered, felt his throat closing up recounting his friend's nature. "Because he tried his best to do what he felt was right in an evil world but was strong enough to do the soul wrecking unscrupulous acts so no one else had to. Because…he gave me a chance I didn't deserve. Because you're not his _replacement_, no one can ever replace him to me." John paled at that, felt like Ronon was cutting him adrift, was done with him.

"Glad that's finally cleared up," he hoarsely bit out as he shoved by Ronon, but the man caught his arm, halted his departure. Coming to his feet, Ronon yanked John back around to face him.

"Yes, I wanted…_needed_ you to be like him. And you are…but …in some ways you're not and I don't hate those differences, no matter what you think," Ronon insisted, hand tightening possessively around John's arm, didn't want him to walk away and not get this truth to sink into John's head, his soul. "If all we wanted from you was your gene to activate things, Stargate Command would have tracked you down years ago, as soon as Rodney came back from meeting the other Sheppard, when I came here from my universe. But they refused to let me contact you, wouldn't even tell me if there was a John Sheppard in their world. Even when you stumbled into the Wraith, Rodney went against orders to read you into the Stargate Program."

"They had my military records, knew what I had done. No surprise they passed on wanting me in this program. Ancient gene or not, I wasn't worth the risk," John roughly pointed out.

"That's what John's superior said about me when Sheppard wanted me to stay on Atlantis, that I wasn't worth the security risk. That I could be a wraith worshiper, or sell out the location of Atlantis for personal gain, or try and seal the technology to wage my own war against the wraith. John defended "my honor"" he flung out, words John had said early, "risked his career to instate me to the crew. And when I asked him why he trusted me, risked defending me, getting me on Atlantis…" here Ronon couldn't help letting a bittersweet smile turn up his lips, "He said, I thought we worked together pretty good on the planet, you know _after_ you tied me up and threatened to shoot me. But you didn't kill me and I didn't let you go on your merry way and continue to be a wraith cat toy. So as far as first meetings go, I've had worse. And as far as comrades in arms, I feel a sight better with you on my side than against me…and I'm betting the wraith feel the same way."

John couldn't help liking Ronon's Sheppard in that moment. Clearly the man had had style and good insights, was cocksure and 1000% right about Ronon being a great brother in arms. John had only had Ronon's friendship for less than a month but he already knew how blessed the Satedan's Sheppard had been to have him in his life, to have earned his fervent loyalty. And John was riding the coat tails of that loyalty that wasn't _his _to claim, that he hadn't _earned_. But he didn't want to relinquish it, let it slip through his fingers, didn't know how he'd endure any of this without Ronon. "Your Sheppard seems to have taken all the best speech lines already…"

Ronon nodded but there was a light in his eyes. "Oh I don't know…I think you'll give him a run for the title because he would have gotten a kick out of you flipping off Sumner."

John gave a ballsy smirk. "You know I'm going to pay dearly for that, especially since I did it in front of an audience."

Ronon shrugged unconcerned. "Sumner has no respect for McKay and his "team." He hates that a nonmilitary _scientist_ is leading the gateteam that's made the most impact on Atlantis's fight against the wraith. So we're all on his hit list…" before he smiled brazenly, "but you're definitely topping it. My John used to say…be number one or go home."

"Sarcastically I bet, in the most-wanted-list kind of way," John guessed and by Ronon's smirk he knew he had surmised correctly. But he held the other man's gaze steadily, hesitated before he asked, "Did he get absolution? Your John?"

Ronon sobered, remembered the rare times his friend openly admitted to his hurts. "If you asked him….he'd say no. But he..he saved Atlantis, gave hope to the galaxy where there used to be none and he forever changed the lives of the ones who loved him. To me, that's worth more than a blameless life with no regrets."

That sentiment rolled around in John's head as Ronon released his grip on his arm. Freed, John left the ship, Ronon tailing him. They stood there silently as the gateship's hatch closed behind them, among the huge hanger that dwarfed them.

"Regardless if I'm not his replacement to you…it's a lot to …to live up to, to accomplish to make my past not taint everything I ever do," John haltingly confessed his doubts, chancing a look to Ronon, to see his reaction.

"You saved your earth, you saved the Daedalus and everyone on board and you…maybe even more of a big deal…you got McKay to actually stop being such a egomaniac," Ronon summed up with a bad boy smile. "You know he passed on giving Dr. Weir the tour of Atlantis and impressing with his amazing brilliance to instead give you a personalized tour? The old McKay, he would have had minions following him along the tour with Dr. Weir, holding up posters and diagrams and clapping when he said something brainy."

John smiled at the imagery. "I can actually envision that." But then he sobered, admitted, "He's been….different since our first meeting at Area 51." Remembered the sharp accusations, the cold stare, the look of disgust and disappointment the doctor had lobbed at him in that interrogation room, never knowing that he had been failing miserably in a comparison game. But then the man had blown John away with his parting words on his tour…the belief that he could be a better man. And since then, Rodney had been as dogged a friend as Ronon, not letting on he had any lingering doubts about his character.

Ronon wanted to ask in what ways McKay was different because the look that had crossed John's features, it wasn't all happy memories. But the man in question intercepted his opening.

"You'll never guess what that console does!" Rodney beamed, practically skipping to them in his joy at the new discovery.

"It's a beacon to other Ancient ships and bases that Atlantis is operational and it also can lead us to their positions in the galaxy," Ronon nonchalantly stated, earning a stunned, open mouthed response from McKay before the man exploded.

"You knew! You knew all this time and you never told us?!" Rodney railed, couldn't believe the man didn't think that tidbit of knowledge from his universe's Atlantis was an important thing to share.

Unperturbed, Ronon shrugged. "Didn't matter what it could do, you couldn't get it working. Until now." Here he looked pointedly to John, the man who had performed what no one else could and he wanted Rodney to acknowledge that.

Instead of huffing off in anger at the man's blatant slight against him and everyone else on Atlantis, Rodney saw Ronon's not so subtle gesture toward John and remembered there was a person's feelings to consider in this new discovery. Remembered looking to share his findings with John and realized he was gone from the gateroom. And he had felt…ashamed that the man had left and he didn't even know it. Felt almost as bad as he did dragging the man into a meet and greet with the Wraith they had locked up at Area 51 that shook him up so badly.

"Right, yeah, but you got it working," Rodney proudly directed at John. "Sorry I got…distracted but I'm here to walk you through the rest of the tour and then supper, I'm starving. Maybe we head to eat now and finish up afterward. Wait, you did get inside the gateship right? You don't look…well…as excited as I thought you would be," disappointed the ships didn't wow the man like he wanted them to.

John was going to reassure Rodney the ships were great but Ronon spoke first. "He _caressed_ the first ship within touching distance, drooled over the diagram things that came up on the viewport and revved the engines."

It had John protesting, "I did not _caress_ anything," while Rodney smiled like he knew he had gotten John the best Christmas gift ever…ten months ahead of time. Meeting Ronon's eyes across John's still protesting form, Rodney knew he and Ronon were both pretty proud of themselves for getting John there, to having this moment actually happen, for Atlantis finally feeling complete, like it was no longer missing someone's presence to make it into their home.

Amid John's insistence that he couldn't rev the gateship's engines even if he wanted to, Ronon slung an arm around the man's shoulders, careful of his wound and began steering him out of the hangar. "Trust me, if anyone can get the engines to rev…it'll be you."

John's head snapped to Ronon, eyes wide in a question, "Did your John…"

"No…but I think breaking his records is something you're up for," Ronon both challenged and declared his steadfast faith in John.

Not aware of the underlining meaning or the two men's earlier conversation, Rodney bristled at Ronon, "I thought we agreed to nip his 'do or die', 'I think I'm an invincible superhero' 'going out in a blaze of glory sounds fun' tendencies in the bud. He does not need to strive to rev the engines or break the sound barrier or …surf the Atlantis ocean."

But at the mention of the ocean, John's eyes lit up. "Ocean…there's waves you can surf."

"Oh crap," Rodney groaned as he realized he had added to the man's list of reckless pursuits, but Ronon was grinning like a fool and Sheppard looked…hopeful. "Why do I envision myself burned to a crisp under the 1000 degree sunrays while watching you two idiots try your best to get eaten by some hideous water monster?"

Ronon innocently asked, "What do you do to waves when you surf them?"

While John's smile was all wily wolf as he asked, "We get days off right?"

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TBC

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Thanks for reading and for my awesome reviewers!

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	11. Premeditated Risk

Understudy

Author: Cheryl W.

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Chapter 11: Premeditated Risk

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"McKay, I don't like this!" Ronon menacingly growled, hands fisted at his side his storm cloud aura having already caused the rest of McKay's geek squad to skedaddle out of the lab leaving McKay alone to face off with the towering anger soldier.

But McKay met Ronon's angry frustration with his own. "And you think I do?! This isn't by my choice! But Colonel Sumner made it pretty clear he wasn't going to green light Sheppard for off world missions until he went on a mission with him." Knowing what Ronon was going to insist on next, he shot that thought down like Sumner had to him. "Annddd…he won't allow you or me to go along on the mission."

Ronon seethed, couldn't believe Sumner was being this petty. "Sheppard's defended the Daedalus on our way here, stopped the Wraith signal on earth. He doesn't _need_ to pass his test."

As much as McKay agreed, he knew they weren't getting around Sumner. Ok, he had made the same argument with Dr. Weir but she shot him down. Now he used her excuse on Ronon, though he didn't think it would help the situation any more than it had quelled the fear in his own gut at the situation. "Well, as the military commander of Atlantis, Colonel Sumner has the pull to say who does and does not go off world. I might have gotten Sheppard on the expedition but my influence only goes so far with the military brass."

Choosing that moment to make himself known to the two bickering men, John strolled into the lab, drolly challenged, "So what you're both thinking is, I'm going to fail the Colonel's test."

"No," Ronon snapped back firmly while McKay came back with a wavering "Maybe". At Ronon's huffy look to him and John's resigned one, McKay explained, "From what I know, Colonel Marshall Sumner is a straight laced as they come. He doesn't tolerate insubordination or any deviation from his say so. And…"

"…He read my file and hated me before he ever met me. I kinda got that on our first meeting. I think you were both there" John smart-aleckedly remarked, didn't know why the two men were rehashing this. Sumner hated him, didn't trust him, thought he would condemn others to save his own butt. He used to expect that opinion of him…he was just out of practice. Damn Rodney and Ronon for being so forgiving of his past failures, it had made him let down his guard. The whole "hero" thing had apparently gone to his head and now sharp reality was taking a bite out of his hide again. Hoping to lighten the mood and not let on how worried he was about passing Sumner's test, he taunted, "But you hated me too when you met me, McKay."

"Hey, I did not hate you!" Rodney heatedly denied, especially when he could feel Ronon seething at his side, aching to punch him if he thought John's accusation was valid. "I ..I just needed…." He stammered, hadn't expected that first meeting to come back to bite him on the butt after all the threesome had been through. _'But apparently it is_,' he grumbled as both men continued to look at him waiting for an answer, a good one too. And he knew enough to not lie, John needed to trust him, he wanted him to be able to trust him. Folding his arms across his chest in a defensive stance, he acknowledged, "Ok, I wanted to leverage you, make you squirm a bit…." At John's raised eyebrow of surprise at him actually admitting to that while Ronon was crowding in closer to him because the Satadan knew that wasn't all of it, Rodney reluctantly confessed to them both, "And _yes_, I wanted to gain your respect. Satisfied?" this last he directed huffily to Ronon who instead of looking pissed, smugly smiled.

"Aw, he was nervous and had a little bit of hero worship happening," Ronon taunted.

"Did not!" Rodney childishly denied

Whatever Ronon was about to say was interrupted by a comm. call. "Alpha team, we're moving up our time table. We got off world in 30 minutes. Sumner Out."

That sucked whatever levity the three men had managed to elicit from the very air they breathed. Ronon turned to his team leader, "McKay I don't trust _him_. I should go along." The "him" came out as a growl of contempt.

McKay sighed, knew what Ronon meant but they couldn't change the situation. "That wasn't the deal."

"I'll be fine," John declared with none of his real sentiments showing.

"Sumner won't have your back," Ronon snarled, hated to think of John in enemy territory, face to face with more than one Wraith for the first time, with people who didn't care if John came back home or not. But even worse, John would be out there _without him_, would be out of his sight, out of his reach, somewhere he couldn't _protect him_…for the first time since he'd met the man.

Reading Ronon's distress, John didn't brush off the other soldier's dire warning. "Ok, I won't expect him too have my back. Happy?"

"Happy isn't the word for the feeling in my gut," McKay dispiritedly mumbled. "John just….be careful and try to not piss him off more than your mere presence already does."

John sheepishly retorted, "I think it's a little too late for that advice," because that instruction should have been given out _before_ he met Sumner during his first five minutes in Atlantis, before he smart mouthed the man and implied he would take orders from Elizabeth willingly…but not him. _'Not that I probably would have heeded McKay's advice anyways,_' he admitted to himself.

McKay didn't need a reminder for John's less than civil first meet and greet with Sumner. "Yeah, what was with the attitude!? You did not win him over with your charm."

"Who said I had charm?" John drolly challenged before he realized where that erroneous belief came to Rodney. "Oh wait, _he_ had charm. I'm really starting to despise the other John Sheppards you guys knew. He's set the bar too damn high for me and that was _before_ I got innocent people killed in Afghanistan."

Ronon grabbed John's arm, jerked him to face him. "The only John Sheppard we're worried about coming home is you!"

"Because _your_ John is already dead," John tersely pointed out as he tugged out of Ronon's hold.

"Sheppard!" Ronon shouted but McKay took his life in his hands and stepped in Ronon's path, stopped him from going after John.

"Having that conversation yet again now… it's not going to get it through his thick skull," Rodney declared, though he wish it would, that sometime when they told John that it was him who mattered to them, he'd actually accept it.

Watching John leave the lab, Ronon gave a Satadan curse and paced the lab like a trapped wild animal, wished to break something.

"We have to just give him more time…let him see that we value _him._." Rodney placated, even as he knew he was biting at the bite too to get John to accept their intentions toward him were for him, not for the other Sheppards.

"Well we better get that through to him soon or he'll decide him lying down and dying is acceptable to us," Ronon darkly predicted before he shoulder checked McKay on his exit of the lab.

Rodney grumbled to the empty room, "Wow, thanks for that cheery comment to keep me feeling sick all day until Sheppard's back in one piece."

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Five hours later, both Ronon and McKay were there when the gate activated under Colonel Sumner's IDC codes. Rodney watched in relief and Ronon in trepidation as Sumner's offworld team started to pop through the wormhole. But when Sumner came through and barked out an order to close the gate, John Sheppard wasn't among the returned.

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In the gate room conference room, McKay bellowed, "You left him there!"

Colonel Sumner calmly sat at the table and gave his unruffled and totally unrepentant reply, "He told me to. He was leading the Wraith away from our team."

Ronon couldn't bear that his dark prediction to McKay had come true, felt guilt and regret and fury, fury fury. And that fury he directed at Sumner. Moving faster than Sumner ever gave him credit for, Ronon grabbed the Colonel, flung him up out of the chair and slammed him against the conference room wall. "He was a junior officer, you don't follow his orders, he follows yours! Did you order him to be the bait!?"

"No, he volunteered!" Sumner snarled right back, trying to loosen Ronon's elbow from its painful pressure on his throat with no success.

"Crap, that sounds like him," Rodney bemoaned, pacing the room, didn't dare look to Ronon this whole time, didn't want to see the 'I told you so' in the other man's face.

Ronon's furious eyes bore into Sumner's, even as he increased the pressure to the man's throat. "But you were only too glad to let him do it. Leaving him behind as Wraith bait, that was fine by you, wasn't it?!"

"Specialist Dex, release the Colonel!" Weir stridently commanded, her hand coming down on Dex's shoulder. Dex did as she ordered but savagely tossed the man nearly to the floor as he obeyed.

"We're going back for him, NOW!" Ronon insisted, didn't care if he had to go alone. He was getting John back home again.

Though Rodney understood Ronon's sentiment, wanted to go get John too, he had to put some reality into the situation, something the hot headed Satadan forgot to take into consideration sometimes. "It's crawling with Wraith!"

Ronon gave a chilling smile to that news. "That's fine, I'm in the mood to kill!"

Straightening up his uniform, Sumner bit out, "This is unadvisable," but from a safe distance from Dex.

Ronon stalked for Sumner but Weir bravely got between them. So he snarled at the other soldier over her head. "What's "unadvisable" was leaving him behind! We don't leave our people behind!"

Sumner had the balls to smirk. "Caldwell's not here to get all gooey-eyed about looking of so moral just so he can impress the brass. I'm in charge, so I make the rules."

"That rule wasn't Caldwell's, jackass. Was Sheppard's. My Sheppard's," Ronon seethed, felt like Sumner was insulting _his _John.

"Well he's not here," Sumner snapped back, was so sick of hearing about Sheppards in all known universes.

Ronon flinched, felt that flare of bereavement again, of loss that overshadowed even his anger.

Surprisingly, in Ronon's pained silence, it was Weir who took up the argument for this world's John. "Obviously this John Sheppard has the same loyal devotional streak, Colonel, or you and your team would be dead right now. He made himself bait to save you…and you're going to return the favor," Weir heatedly decreed. Turning to Rodney, she instructed, "McKay, get your team ready and the Colonel will get two of his teams set to go. Move out in ten minutes." It galvanized all three men to promptly exit the conference room, intent on following her orders.

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But when they gated back to where Sumner had abandoned Sheppard, John was gone..and so were any signs of the wraith Sumner's team had tangled with. Checking the stargate's last dialed number, Rodney wasn't surprised it wasn't Atlantis, couldn't be after all. But the coordinates did ring a bell with him. "They are familiar but…."

"Dial them already!" Ronon insisted.

"And walk into an ambush or off a cliff?" Sumner chided.

But Sumner's comment sparked something in Rodney and he snapped his fingers in a eureka moment. "The coordinates…this is the gate that's …" But he broke off, suddenly hoping he was wrong for a change.

Teyla read the panic in her leader's expression. "What is it Rodney?"

"This gate..the last one dialed…it goes to a world that was being flooded because of shifts in the planet's tectonic plates," Rodney revealed, the blood draining from his face as he calculated just how high the water would be now, certainly thirty feet above the gate, making redialing from that world…nearly impossible because you had to add another twenty feet to that depth to reach the control panel. Then there was the real possibility the crystals wouldn't work or the control dial had been damaged by the flooding. "Damn it, I told Radek to not tell Sheppard gate coordinates he shouldn't go to! He must have gotten them confused, thought it was a safe planet…"

But Ronon had stilled at the news, grimly came to a different conclusion. "He didn't choose wrong. He went to that planet _because_ of the flooding…went there purposefully hoping the Wraith would follow him and drown." Turning fully to Rodney, wanting the man to agree with him, he pointed out, "John's a strong swimmer, we know that, McKay. And he knew what he was gating into."

Surprisingly, it wasn't Rodney who believed his assessment but Sumner, who took him at his word and ordered, "McKay dial Atlantis. We need a gateship."

It was taking longer than Rodney could bear until they got the jumper, especially since he practically had to lay across the dialing console so Ronon didn't head to the planet after Sheppard and get himself drown in the first two seconds of reentry. Still he would have probably gotten bodily tossed off the console if Teyla hadn't intervened, took Ronon aside and used that practical calm voice on him. "If this was his strategic plan, John will have been prepared to be met with water in his entry. He will be there waiting for us."

"Water yes, thirty feet of it…" Rodney mumbled worriedly, until he fell under Teyla's sink eye and tried to do optimistic, sort of. "But I'm sure my calculations are off, would have been much lower when he went through…like a couple inches shy of 30 feet then to add on the distance to get to the crystals…"

When Teyla said his name in a warning tone, Rodney clamped his mouth shut. Right, optimistic, he was supposed to be optimistic. _'But really how many bad odds do we actually think Sheppard can overcome…in like a two month period?!'_

_SGATSGATSGAT _

The jumper was poised to enter the wormhole but Rodney was still giving our dire warnings from his seat right behind the pilot. "Be care …there might be obstructions right when we enter. Don't hit anything…and don't hit him…you know if he's…." his voice trembling on the mental picture he had conjured up in his own head. Teyla reached across, gave a reassuring squeeze to his wrist, trying to give comfort to the shaken man. He gave her a small smile of thanks before having eyes only for the view outside the window.

To Teyla and Rodney's surprise, Ronon had chosen to sit in the back of the jumper, right by the hatch. But Ronon was a man of action, didn't want to look out the window, wanted to be able to be outside as soon as he could. Vowing to himself that he would get to Sheppard fast. Because Sheppard, he'd be there waiting for him. Had to be. There was no other possibility that Ronon could bear to consider.

Then they were through the wormhole but Rodney's exclamation had Ronon surging to his feet and heading for the front of the ship to see the view outside that had startled his leader… the sight of a body right in the ship's path. There was no way to avoid the collision and the body hit the window, the wraith's features clear as they pressed against the window and then the body floated up and over the ship. A collective beat of relief fell in the craft before renewed tension filled the very air. They were in the right place and the wraith had been there…but was John there too, was he alive or was he another corpse floating in the waters surrounding their ship?

"Tracking for heat sources," the pilot announced and a schematic grid came up on the screen. Small blips shown, clearly fish and then another blip showed on the top of the grid, which Sumner pointed to. "Got a heat source on the water's surface."

And that was enough for Ronon to head back to the hatch, to wait another few agonizing minutes until he could go for John. Tried to not hear Teyla's question…or Rodney's response.

"Can we tell from your scanner if it is human or …wraith? And if they have heat does that mean they are alive?"

"We won't know…either thing until….well, until we see for ourselves," Rodney grimly replied, torn between wanting the answers to Teyla's inquiries and terrified to learn them at that same time.

"Take her up five hundred yards from the source," Sumner advised his Marine. McKay was about to protest but the Colonel spared him a look and an explanation. "If it's a wraith, I'm not going to have us jumping out there blindly and giving him a change to do damage to the ship or to my people, Doctor," he snapped, emphasizing McKay's nonmilitary rank.

Ronon didn't bother protesting, he could swim five hundred yards quickly and easily to reach Sheppard. '_Just be there waiting to get rescued, Sheppard_,' he implored. Then the ship broke the surface and the water cascaded off the window, concealing the heat source for long moments. When the view was finally cleared so they could see five yards in front of them, they saw a figure floating in the water…giving them a little two fingered wave and greeting them with a wet but totally human smile.

"Get over to him!" Ronon roared but there was a grin creeping its way onto his features, cracking his rough façade. A grin that turned into a joyous smile as the gate ship hovered above Sheppard. Reaching a hand out, he pulled Sheppard up the ramp into the ship right into a fierce hug. "If I wasn't so glad to see you I'd probably knock out some of your teeth."

A little stunned to be entangled in the Satadan's hug, John lightly and a bit awkwardly patted Ronon on the back, "That would have sucked to survive today's crapshow only to lose this beautiful smile of mine."

Then McKay was there, already lecturing Sheppard before John even managed to pull out of Ronon's hold. "Out of all the gates, you had to dial that one!? You couldn't have remembered a gate with a nice tropical beach, armed garrison prepared to kill off the wraith?! No, you randomly recalled the gate that we knew was water logged! That certain drowning assured!"

"I _chose_ the gate _because_ of the flooding," John defended against McKay's ranting. "Never read that Wraith were great swimmers and their darts don't do much darting underwater. And I can swim, quite good at it, though that skill set didn't come in handy in the Vegas desert."

Ronon smugly said, "Told you so," to McKay who was still sputtering, "Wait, you choose…you wanted…you planned…."

"You took them there knowing what to expect when the Wraith didn't know what they were heading into." Ronon nodded his approval. "I like it."

But Rodney's voice rose into a screech, "Like it! He nearly drowned and he couldn't dial the gate because the dial was now thirty feet under strong currents of water! How is that plan something to praise him over!?"

John shrugged, "Hey, I survived." Didn't know why that seemed to piss McKay off.

"By dumb luck," Rodney ranted, was still doing calculations in his head of how improbably John's survival was.

"No, I…" John began, looking to Ronon and McKay, he cleared his throat, told himself it was ok to tell them the truth. "I knew you'd come. That you wouldn't….leave me behind. You came when I was a nobody bleeding out in the desert, so you'd come find me now." And then he held his breath because this was a far greater risk than dialing into a soggy world, this was…risking his soul, trusting someone….two someones. And he hadn't trusted anyone in a really, really long time.

"You were never a nobody," Ronon heatedly objected to his self description.

Meanwhile Rodney was a little overwhelmed at John's words, at having gotten the withdrawn man's trust..something he honestly wasn't sure he'd ever earn. "Well I'm glad….that you….that you trusted…that we didn't….disappoint…."

"He means he's glad you made it back," Ronon provided a translation to Rodney's stammering.

"Yeah, I am too." John agreed and meant it, that it was good to be alive…with them. But then over Rodney's shoulders, he saw Colonel Sumner approaching. Ronon must have caught the look in his expression and he turned to block Colonel's path to him, could feel the tension between the two men as they did a staredown. "Ronon, it's ok."

"He left you to die!" Ronon snarled, eyes singeing to Sumner's.

Putting a hand on Ronon's shoulder, John corrected, "No, he …trusted me to do what I said I would."

Sumner, realizing Dex still wasn't budging, no matter what Sheppard said, met John's eyes past Ronon's protective figure. "I judged you by what was in your file. Going forward, I'll judge you by your actions."

McKay bulked at the olive branch "What?! That doesn't sound very grateful. He saved your lives, deserves more than more tests…"

"Fine by me, Colonel Sumner, Sir," John cut across Rodney's rant, his eyes on Sumner who nodded and turned to leave. But he turned back at the last second, "Oh and …you're green lighted for off world missions."

John smiled in gratitude. "Thank you, sir." Then Sumner departed back to the front of the ship.

"I guess, it's a case of all's well that ends well," John happily surmised.

Which Rodney scathingly protested. "Ends well!? You nearly died! By the wraith and then by drowning and/or hypothermia. You might have earned brownie points with the gung ho Colonel but in my book you're looking at some serious workshops on self-preservation!"

"He means he's glad you're not dead," Ronon explained, tugging John down into a seat, while he claimed the one beside him. Realized that the rest of the Marines had smartly moved toward the front of the ship, not wanting any part of Colonel's tiff with Sheppard or to intrude on the three men's present conversation.

"When did you of all people get to be my interpreter?!" Rodney snapped at the usually taciturn Satadan.

Ronon looked up with Rodney, answered with a hint of amusement in his tone, "Since you started not saying what you mean."

That caught Rodney off guard. "I mean what I say… most of the time."

But John remembered a time when he thought that wasn't true. Looking up to Mckay, he smirked. "You were going to take back what you said to me."

Arms crossing his chest, certain Sheppard was wrong, Rodney demanded, "When?"

"Vegas. You said something about _"I know what I said but…"_ then the cell reception cut out," Sheppard recalled, personally found he couldn't stop thinking of that incomplete conversation, now months later.

Rodney's jaw clenched, remembered that moment, would forever remember it. It had his blood pressure rising just thinking about it and this felt like the moment he could finally get it off his chest. "Oh, yeah, because I was going to say, "_**Don't go up against a well fed, goal oriented wraith with a stupid handgun in the middle of the desert all by yourself"!"**_

"So you didn't want me to be like that other John you met…" John teased, ignored the fact that Ronon had shucked off his coat and was draping it around his shoulders to fight off the chill that was making his teeth chatter.

And as offhanded as John was treating this, Rodney knew it mattered what he said next, how he expressed his concern, the thoughts that had ran though his head back then. "I didn't want you to die because you thought you had to…that you were being compared to and …." But he wasn't getting this right. Testily he looked to Ronon and demanded, "What?! Now you don't pitch in and finish my thoughts for me?!"

"Not sure where you're going this time," Ronon admitted, was curious himself, didn't see much of this insecure side of McKay that John seemed to always bring out in the man.

Sighing, Rodney turned back to John. "Fine, I didn't want you dead. Didn't then…don't now." That confession out of the way he claimed a seat across from John and almost implored, "So could you…cut back on the kamikaze runs. I really am not that great with caring, and talking about my feelings… and this is making me see why I prefer computers, hard data and algorithms to people."

John didn't tell McKay his last statement was full of crap but he did protest his accusation. "It wasn't kamikaze, it was tactical."

"This was, Vegas wasn't," Ronon quietly but firmly reproached eyes coming to hold John's startled expression, didn't want the man to think he didn't know the difference, would tolerate John making another Vegas decision.

John didn't reply for a moment, then surprised himself by solemnly agreeing with Ronon's conclusion. "No, it wasn't. But it felt…like the right thing to do." Wanted Ronon and Rodney to at least know that, understand why tactics had gone out the window back there..along with his plan to head out of Vegas and ignore the alien in the room (town).

Ronon couldn't let John think what he had done was wrong, it had saved millions of life. "It was the right thing to do but…" Now he felt like Rodney, unable to find the words for how he felt. But that wasn't right, he _knew _the words, they were just hard to say, to admit, even to himself. Running a hand through his braided hair, he exhaled and met John's curious gaze. "I almost lost you before I found you. I wouldn't have been ok with that," he hoarsely confessed.

"Not to mention he would have killed _me_ because he told me to take care of you," McKay interjected into the two men's bromance moment.

That had John chuckling and facing Rodney. "What? You never told me that!"

"Yeah, well, I'm your boss, I don't have to tell you everything," Rodney smugly returned, pretty happy he had snagged John's attention from Ronon. Feeling like she had given the men enough time to talk, Teyla approached, crouched down by John, "Major Sheppard, how are you feeling?" She reached out, touched a bleeding gash on his head, noted the man's black eye and bleeding knuckles, indicated close quarters battle. "Those wraith weren't gentle with you."

"I'm sure they would have warmed up to me once they got to know me," John drawled, trying to not seem like a victim, to get them to remember he won the day by outsmarting the enemy. And ok, he had his butt handed to him by the four Wraith who caught him before he made the wormhole jump but that was supposed to just be a small side note on the big picture.

Rodney barked in laughter at his boast. "Wraith…warming up to you?! Major Sheppard you have a lot to learn about the Pegasus galaxy." Even Teyla couldn't hold back an amused snort at the picture of befriending a wraith.

But Ronon cleared his throat and sat up straighter in the seat, drawing all eyes to him before he reluctantly supplied, "Actually John…my John he….it wasn't your normal situation and it wasn't like he set out to make a Wraith his blood brother, it just…happened. He did what he had to do to survive."

"He charmed a freaking Wraith?" McKay was thunderstruck, hadn't heard this tall tale from Ronon before.

"Come on, it's not so hard to believe, McKay," Ronon protested before he smiled and jerked his thumb at _their _John Sheppard. "He charmed Colonel Sumner into liking him today and we both thought that was impossible."

"Hey, I did not charm anyone. I used common sense, proven military tactics, good ole fashioned wiles to do what needed to get done," John groused, would not let them insinuate that he was some pretty boy suck up.

But the growing smirk on Rodney's face only intensified, "Sure, ok. If that's what you want us to believe but honestly, I think you _charmed_ Dr. Weir on the Daedalus on our way here. Because she was all against you being here and then, miraculously, she was more than ok with it, was all smiley at you."

"She was not "all smiley at me"," John huffed.

"But you did talk with her on the Daedalus," Rodney pressed, feeling like he was finally getting to the bottom of Weir's turnabout.

John mumbled under his breath, "We might have met in the hallway…."

That got McKay thinking back when he wasn't with John, would have missed this momentous meeting. He snapped his fingers as it came to him. "When you went AWOL from the infirmary, that's when you met her. You were…ok, I get it, you were in infirmary scrubs, looking all fragile and little boy lost. That gets to women, even the ones as strong willed, no nonsense as Dr. Elizabeth Weir."

"I did not look _fragile_," John protested before he tried to deflect the conversation, "And what does little boy lost look like, exactly?!"

Teyla smiled and saucily said, "Oh, I have a pretty good idea you're looking like that now."

"Must be a cross between drown cat, beat up waif and hair gone wrong," Rodney merrily supplied, making John subconsciously run a hand through his flatten hairdo.

When Ronon spoke, John hoped he was about to defend him. He was sorely mistaken. "I'm ok if Dr. Weir feels protective of him. With his "kamikaze" habits, we'll need all the people we can get to keep him in check," he cheekily taunted, enjoyed John's miffed expression.

"Hey, again not kamikaze and I can hear you. I'm right here so stop talking about me like I'm not," John groused.

"Do you hear something?" Rodney joked, cupping his ear and the threesome surrounding John chuckled until he reluctantly smirked.

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Hours later, against his protest, John was finally escaping the infirmary. He wasn't all that surprised to find Ronon waiting for him in the hallway. The man fell into step beside him silently. Shooting Ronon a look, John knew Ronon had something to say, something he didn't want to say today when the others were around. "You decide you do want to knock out some of my teeth after all?"

But Ronon didn't rise to the bait, simply kept pace with him, but did override John's reach for the transporter location. Selected a different section of the city than John's room. When the doors opened, John's mouth dropped in stunned appreciation as he stepped out, saw the night time sky boasting two moons, their combined light glimmering off the water. Leaning against the railing, he couldn't stop admiring the breathtaking view."Gotta say, wraith infestation aside, your galaxy has its perks."

Ronon had come to stand beside him, enjoying the same view John was. "Yeah, I'm pretty attached to it myself," affection and pride in his tone for Pegasus, even this alternate one. But that appreciation, it had not been there at first, all comparisons to his home universe had been…painful. Until now. Until this world's John Sheppard had found his way to him, until they were walking this journey together. And he needed John to know how important that was to him. "John, I don't need you to replace the friend I lost."

He felt John go rigid beside him but the man didn't look at him, kept his gaze transfixed on the moons. That was ok, as long as he heard him. "My John…he's…." Ronon swallowed hard, didn't think it would get to him to speak openly.

His pain was enough to get John to look at him in sympathy. "You don't have to…" trying to give him a pass, to not open himself up to hurt.

But Ronon shook his head, this pain would be worth it if he could make John understand. "My John's here," and he tapped his heart, knew his friend would live forever there. That family, _brothers_ never left your heart. Then he faced John Sheppard. "I just need you to be you, John," he hoarsely insisted emotions bleeding through enough that John simply nodded in consent, would do what he could to ease the other man's pain. At John's silent vow, Ronon felt like he could breathe again even cracked a smile and tagged on another demand, "And I need you to stick around. Clear enough?" his hand came up to cup the back of John's neck, their eyes meeting and holding.

Knowing Ronon was waiting for a confirmation, John croaked out, "Yeah, pretty clear." And Ronon accepted his word just like that, smiled and pulled his hand away and then they stood there, watching Atlantis see the end of another day in the Pegasus galaxy.

And a darkness that John had long carried with him eased. Years ago he had wanted his father to beg him to stay, to not tell him if he was going to join the Air Force he was no longer a son of his. Had wanted his brother to side with him, tell him he wanted him in his life, regardless of their father's anger. Had wanted the Air Force to tell him they needed him, wouldn't boot him out because of one well-meaning but doomed rescue attempt. But not one of them had ever asked him to stay, had all vehemently wanted his absence.

It was almost ironic that he had to come to another galaxy, had to be a doppelganger to a hero in another universe, had to take on aliens with a taste for human souls to finally find somewhere he was wanted. Somewhere he might even belong.

Ronon broke into his thoughts with a threat. "And if you do go on another kamikaze mission…I will knock out all your teeth."

John couldn't hold back a smile as he turned to the smirking Satadan, "You'd have to catch me first and, I have to warn you, I'm _pretty_ fast," he boasted, suddenly liked his odds…in this galaxy..and in these new friendships he'd found. Or rather that had found him.

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TBC

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Love to all my reviewers and hugs to all the silent readers out there! Wish I had more time and energy to reply to your awesome so treasured reviews but I am hoping my updating this story shows just how much your support means to me and that your encouragement keeps me writing new sappy chapters of my favorite team.

I do send out prayers for your health! Stay well, stay safe, and know you are not alone. God is always there with you reaching out, aching for you to reach back.

Cheryl W.


	12. Safeguard What You Treasure

Understudy

Author: Cheryl W.

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Chapter 12: Safeguard What You Treasure

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The mission was not going how Rodney had envisioned. Course it didn't help that Sumner had stolen Teyla and Ronon for his own op leaving McKay to fill in their absences with two marines that he couldn't even remember their names. That shouldn't have mattered since McKay's gate team objective was supposed to simply be a nice meet and greet. However, instead of being met with happy villagers offering baked goods, they walked into a wraith ambush and had been on the run for the last four hours.

Thanks to the Wraith herding them, they were heading in the _opposite_ direction of the gate. And the civilization that the one Marine had spied, it turned out to be a long abandoned village: Ramshackled buildings, no people to aid them in the fight and offering no additional weapons at their disposal. As if that wasn't bad enough, they hadn't shed their ten Wraith admirers, who McKay expected to stroll into town in the next half an hour to try and finish them off.

One final tidbit to add to the 'this mission sucks' tally: they were boxed in by a mountain range they had no hopes of climbing. They had run right into a dead end. _'Just brilliant, Rodney, brilliant_," McKay snarled internally, as he and his teammates huddled behind a barn.

"I think we need to utilize a high ground advantage," Sheppard advised, pointing to the roof of the tavern. "From there I can take out a few of them as they enter town before they get a lock on my position." John grimly knew it would take a serious barrage of bullets to take even one down because this band of wraith had gorged themselves on the villagers his team had come to meet. And well fed Wraith he had come to know, were pretty unbothered by little gnatty bullets hitting them. But it was worth the risk to better their odds, even if he only succeeded in thinning their number a little.

It didn't take much consideration on McKay's part to concur. "Agreed." But when John pushed off from his lean against the building beside McKay to put his plan into action, Rodney grabbed John's tac vest and halted his departure. "Lt. Saba…keew? Neew? Find a way onto the roof," he directed at the young male Marine crouched to his right.

"Yes sir," the soldier readily snapped back, scampering off across the open ground toward the tavern.

Turning to the other member of their four person squad, McKay ordered "Lt…ah, your last name starts with a V…?"

"Vinck," the woman Marine sniped back, had told the Doctor her name three freaking times now.

Unperturbed by the Marine's frustration, Rodney ordered, "Yeah, right. You circle the perimeter, radio when you have any contact." Giving a sharp nod, the Marine darted off to the left.

Alone with McKay, Sheppard voiced his objection to his leader's orders. "The roof was my suggestion! I should be the one up there."

"I decide where you should be," McKay coldly retorted without showing an ounce of the emotion surging under his skin. _'And where you should be is with me, so I can have your back._' Because as nerve wracking as it had been when Sheppard was off on Sumner's team without him, it was worse having the man be his responsible, to not have Ronon or Teyla there to help protect him, for John's safety, for John's _life _to be solely in his hands. Because he had had that charge before and under his appalling brand of protection, the man had ended up shot and dying in a Vegas desert.

Pissed that McKay was keeping him on a short leash, John petulantly snapped back, "Yes sir."

McKay didn't miss Sheppard's tone but ignored it. The man would just have to get used to him calling the shorts and take his orders as he gave them.

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Not really keen on pretending they weren't the superior race, the Wraith didn't bother with tactics, simply came at them hard and fast. Lt. Vinck barely radioed, "They're on the edge of the village," before sounds of her rifle fire erupted over the open line. Lt Sabaneew's rifle soon joined in with the racket after he announced, "targets sighted."

John and Rodney were set up in their own positions. Since high ground was covered, they took low ground, adopted guerrilla warfare tactics. So as the Wraith boldly marched down the village fairway, the doctor and the Air Force Major broke free of the holes they had dug in the opposite corridors between the few standing buildings of the village and caught the wraith in a cross fire. John saw movement out of the corner of his eye and wished to God he hadn't looked to see Lt. Sabaneew's body falling from the perch on the tavern roof. The marine didn't let out a sound of alarm, was most likely stunned unconscious. But there was a gut churning crunch when his fall came to an unforgiving end on the ground.

"No!" John snarled, enraged the kid was down because he took his advice, because he took the position that should have been his. His fury overriding his thoughts of safety, he stalked toward the Wraith, unleashing automatic fire that struck the prey, managing to take a few down that did not get back up. But there were still five left, absorbing the bullets like they were paintball rounds instead of lead. With a cry of outrage, Sheppard pulled his knife from his belt and charged into the fray, was ready to take it to down and dirty tactics to kill this enemy, to avenge the lives they had taken today and the thousands more on their agenda.

"Oh crap," Rodney muttered as he heard John's war cry saw the man wade into the Wraith hoard like it was an offensive football line instead of lifeforce sucking aliens. Fearing that John would get himself killed, Rodney abandoned logic and instead adopted Sheppard's kamikaze mindset. His cry was more a shriek of I-have-no-idea-why-I'm-doing-this but his bullets from his handgun sunk reassuringly into the closest Wraith he ran toward. He shot another point blank in the face and choked back a gag when wraith blood splattered his face.

But something more disturbing was happening a few feet away: John was wrestling on the ground with a wraith and the wraith's greedy hand was reaching to press down on John's chest, to suck the life out of him. Plowing through the two Wraith in his way, not out of tactic or bravado but fear, Rodney got close enough to shoot the Wraith on top of John three times before his gun clicked empty. Before he could reload, he was jerked backwards by one of the wraith that he had bowled over. The alien's grotesque hand wrapped around Rodney's throat, lifting him off the ground, while his other hand came to rest on Rodney's chest.

Numbly wondering how it would feel to be sucked dry, Rodney hoped Sheppard got out of this Ok, did the smart thing and ran away. But then again, they were taking about John Sheppard here. Who, in that moment, tackled the Wraith holding Rodney, sending all three of them crashing to the ground.

John put his knife to good use, sank it into the Wraith's heart. Then, sensing the threat behind him, he yanked the blade from the wraith corpse under him and sailed it through the air to expertly imbed in the other wraith's throat. The mortally wounded Wraith staggered one step before falling. The remaining Wraith took that opening to cowardly run away.

Looking to Rodney who was lying on the ground to his right, John reached out, grabbed the man by the shoulder, worriedly demanded, "Rodney, are you alright?"

"I'm…yes…I wasn't …snacked on," Rodney stammered, a bit shamed that he was shaken up as he was before his eyes widened with his own worry as he took in Sheppard's ripped shirt front. "You, he was trying to…"

"He died hungry…thanks to you," John reassured, before he stood up, reached a hand down to help Rodney up. Then he was crossing the space to Lt Sabaneew's unmoving form, his fingers sought out a pulse in the man's neck but there was only stillness under his touch. "No," he mournfully bit out, listened as McKay called for Vinck without getting an answer. Pushing to his feet, he started for her last known location, Rodney at his six. He stumbled to a stop when he saw the husk on the ground, the Stargate uniform now housing a dried up corpse that had once been a young promising Marine.

Two lives gone. Two lives he didn't save. Two lives he should have saved. And Rodney had almost been number three. Spinning around he snarled at McKay, "What was that?! You turned your back on a hostile! Three hostiles!" Though he was fighting for his life at the time, he had seen Rodney plow through the two wraith to get to him, leaving himself vulnerable, open for attack. His leader seemingly didn't _care_ that the wraith were getting up to finish him off because Rodney was too busy killing the wraith trying to feed on _him_ to worry about his own freaking life.

Rodney refused to justify his actions, didn't have to. He was the leader here. "Get Vinck's dog tags, I'll get Sabaneew's," he grimly ordered, was turning to go back to the fallen Marine when Sheppard got in his face.

"Their dog tags?! The threat is gone, we can bring back their bodies, give their families…"

"Closure," Rodney derisively snapped, just as disheartened at their loss of lives as John but too used to the occasion to think of them in the terms John still did. "Dead is dead, Major. And the "threat" is not over, just delayed. If that Wraith reaches the gate and calls for reinforcements, there will be darts here searching for us. We need to move now, beat the Wraith back to the gate or at least get off this planet before any darts arrive."

John sullenly left to retrieve the dog tags of the fallen female Marine and Rodney felt a tang of regret that John would think less of him for not honoring the two Marines' bravery as he would have. But this wasn't like any warfare John had been in before, the stakes were not global, they were _galaxies_ at stake, their own included. Yes, lives were lost but it wasn't without honor or sorrow, but there would be no burial arrangements or posthumously medal ceremonies, not here, not how. Later, maybe when the war was won, when the wraith were dead, the replicators shattered apart forever, maybe then there would be time to honor the lost ones. And just maybe someone would even be alive to remember their acts of bravery.

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For miles they travelled in silence, bitter, uncomfortable silence before John rasped out, "Setting up on the roof, that was **my idea**. I should have been the one up there."

"Yeah and you would probably be dead instead of Sabaneew," Rodney snapped back, internally shivered at the imagined role reversal. '_Yeah I wasn't going to let that happen._' As much as he understood that there would be casualties in this war, he couldn't stomach the idea of Sheppard being one of them.

But John embraced Rodney's grim conclusion instead of repelling it. "Maybe that's the way it should have happened!"

"Right, so I'm supposed to apologize that I didn't let you go out in a blaze of glory. Again," Rodney sarcastically snapped back, eyes blazing into John's. Knew it would be a cold day in hell before he let Sheppard get that particular wish of his granted.

John shoved Rodney's arm, causing him to face him as they came to a stand still. "But it was Ok to let that _kid_ die instead of me!? Why can't you …everyone …get it through your stupid heads that **I'm not him**! I'm not that heroic, savior to the galaxy you met! I'm the screwed up knockoff, remember! Who already got people dead…who should be dead instead of that twenty two year old kid! You going all protective on me…that's a dishonor to those two Marines who bravely dedicated their lives to the Stargate program, to defending this fight that I've been in a whole five seconds!"

Rodney matched Sheppard's decibel with his growl back, "They did their job! Their _Duty_!

Instead of yelling back another accusation, John deflated, muttered, "That's more than I did. Why am I even _here_ if you've got no faith in my abilities?! Why don't you just tote around a picture of your superhero Sheppard instead of dragging me along like some goodluck charm? Because I sure am not lucky…for anyone."

Opening his mouth to dispute John's claim, Rodney was treated to John's departing form. Did a jog to draw up beside him but by the set look on the other man's features, he knew now was not the time to convince Sheppard of his own worth.

John had sworn that he had said his peace but other words bubbled out against his will when Rodney matched his stride. "I'm not the damsel in distress! I'm a soldier! I don't need you to protect me like some weak, untrained, scared civilian!"

'_I'm protecting you like you are my friend, who I don't want dead_,' Rodney wanted to rail back but bit out something harsher and a harder to swallow truth instead. "Maybe I wouldn't think I had to protect you if I believed you'd do everything in your power to not go out in a blaze of glory. To not let your guilt for an atrocious but unintentional tragedy make you believe that sacrificing yourself was a great way to pay penance. You convince me you're favorably fond of living instead of dying and I'll gladly let you treat me like the damsel in distress." With that said, Rodney pulled out one of his scientific doohickeys and started taking planetary readings, effectively shutting out John's presence until they reached the gate and got home.

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Ronon noticed the tension between McKay and Sheppard after the mission but wisely didn't bring it up to either man. Teyla wasn't so stingy with her curiously but neither man fell under her empathy's web and spilled their guts. But when it was nearing two weeks and even McKay was down to grunting out replies to questions he usually liked to answer in bragging tones for an hour, Ronon was almost set to intervene.

Instead the Genii did.

Apparently gossip even traveled to the Genii that Atlantis now had a strong bona fide Ancient gene team member. They too had tried to synthesize the gene but had even less luck than Atlantis, which, without someone to make them work, made their stockpile of Ancient weapons useless paperweights. So they thought they'd do what they did best: steal the tech they needed. It didn't seem to make them bat an eyelash that the "tech" was actually a person.

Not knowing the Genii's target, Dr. Weir had sent guards to the ZPM, other power hubs, the weapons and the hangar bay when the invasion force stepped through the stargate. Meanwhile their intended target was dispatched to confront the invaders, exactly what President Acastus Kolya expected to happen.

"Not that I'm complaining but why aren't they shooting us?! Why stun us?" McKay shouted out to his teammates as they traded fire with the ten Genii trying to force their way down the corridor.

"Rodney is right, that is not their way," Teyla agreed, ducking behind the wall as a stun beam went over her head.

"A dead enemy doesn't come back for another shot at you," Ronon surmised the Genii's usual headspace.

"So I take it you don't like these guys? Thought all the humans here would band together against the Wraith," John said over his intercom, having been across the base at the time of the attack, he was at the other end of the corridor than his teammates. Thought it wasn't a bad turnout though, having the bad guys in boxed in.

McKay's comeback dripped with disdain. "That's like thinking I have to respect every member of my scientific team, Sheppard. Ludicrous."

Ronon chuckled and John snorted, "Yeah, Kavanagh and you becoming best buddies…I think you'd rather kill each other than the Wraith most days."

"Very appealing notion," Rodney drily concurred. "What…why are they turning around?" he noted about their targets.

"Like the odds of one man versus going up against three?" John hazarded, still trading shot with the enemy, who now were mostly all facing his direction.

"Lay down your arms, now! You're not getting out of here!" McKay commanded of the Genii, thought they were agreeing to his terms when they crouched down, seemingly to lay down their weapons. Instead they sent a barrage of stun beams toward John, who ducked behind the wall in time until a stun shot from behind him caught him in the back, sending him spraying to the ground unconscious.

"John!" Teyla shouted as she saw him collapse, felt Ronon begin to surge forward but she yanked him backwards as the Genii turned back to them and opened fire, now with live ammunition.

Pinned down, Ronon shouted across the hallway now zinging with bullets to McKay, "They wanted Sheppard, alive. That's why they were using the stun guns."

"They didn't know which one of us was him..until I said his name," Rodney realized with self-hatred.

"It must be his Ancient Gene," Teyla theorized, hoped that meant they would keep John alive until they could free him. The Genii in the corridor were retreating, having gotten what they sought.

Ronon growled in rage as he watched them drag Sheppard's unconscious form across the corridor and out of sight. "They have to take the transporter back to the gate," he said before he turned and ran the opposite direction of the soldiers who had taken his best friend. He knew what John would call the tactic he was about to put into play, this John, not his: Heading them off at the pass. This John liked western references, probably because of his time in Vegas..or else he thought of himself as a cowboy from the Earth's old west era, Ronon could never determine which.

Following his lead, McKay and Teyla were hard at his heels. Using a tranporter of their own, they popped out at the corridor closest to the gate transporter and pelted down the hallway at a full out run. Since their communications had obviously been hacked, none of them trusted to radio a coordinated pincher move with any of the Marines.

Rodney, running down the corridor a few paces behind Teyla, found that his mind was going mach one: replaying the argument he and John had had two weeks ago on the mission. Fervently wishing now that he had apologized or talked things out with the man, hated to think he wouldn't get the chance now. That some Genii thugs were stealing Sheppard away and they'd never see him again.

Rounding the corner, hoping for surprise to be on their side, Ronon saw the transporter door was open and feared he was too late. Surging forward, he pointed his gun muzzle into the transporter's interior. Instead of finding the interior empty, John Sheppard stood there, splattered in blood with his captors lying unmoving at his feet. Ronon was shaking with relief as John stepped over the corpses to exit the kill box the Air Force Major had created for the hapless Genii.

"Some more bodies are in the hallway ..by the training rooms," John supplied, using his forearm to smear some blood off his eyebrow.

Latching onto John's elbow, Ronon demanded, "Where are you hurt?" prayed that only a small portion of blood on John was his friend's.

"Not hurt," John boasted before catching Rodney's emphatically relieved gaze. "Like I said…I'm no damsel in distress needing protected or rescued." Expected a snippy, challenging comeback from McKay, a demand that further proof was needed. He was in no way expecting Rodney to yank him into a fierce hug.

"Thank God you're so stubborn to prove a point," Rodney tightened his hold on John a moment more, ensuring that the man was there with him and in one piece after what he had feared before pulling back.

"Oookkkk..Not the reaction I was expecting," John drawled, totally out of his element with McKay's relief and outward show of affection.

Ronon looped an arm around John's shoulders, a huge smile on his face. Felt something in him shift, some fear give way to happiness that wasn't all attributed to this newest scare that Sheppard would be taken from him. "I've never seen it before but I _think_ that's McKay actually being proud of someone besides himself."

"Very funny," Rodney sallied to Ronon but he felt immeasurably giddy so he let the insult go without further retaliation.

"We are all very relieved you are alright, John," Teyla announced, companionably loping her arm through Rodney's.

John was still reeling at the notion that Rodney was proud of him, that he'd gained the man's trust that he wouldn't just lay down and die in some weak notion of penance for past sins.

Ronon patted John on the chest. "I'm proud of you too." Then he began steering the man down the hallway, away from the carnage as a Marine contingent showed up to clean up the aftermath. "Except I have one question…what's a damsel in distress?"

Cocking his head over his shoulders to look back at McKay, John brazenly smirked, "Rodney. He's what's known as a damsel in distress. Always needing rescued, cries under pressure, whines the entire time the hero is saving his butt."

"Har har. Maybe you hit your head because you are delusional." Rodney didn't care what he had offhandedly promised Sheppard on that mission, he had been talking out of desperation, surely Sheppard knew that.

Confused by the term and the conversation, Teyla murmured, "That description does not seem to describe Rodney." A second later, her eyes lighted up with devious mirth. "But there is one person on Atlantis who would meet all those criteria."

"Kavanagh," the foursome said in unison, chuckled at their agreement and began relating tale after tale about the contemptible antics of Rodney's subordinate.

More Marines passed them intent on rounding up the rest of the Gemii. Reassured that Atlantis was in good hands, Rodney could finally believe that so was John. Today he had proof that the man would do all in his power to survive. '_And Ronon, Teyla and I will do what we can to keep him safe, regardless of Sheppard's whining about being protected. Because __he's__ the whiner not me,_' he smugly thought before he dove right back into another 'just how stupid can Kavanagh be' tale. "Then there's the time when Kavanagh initiated a self-destruct sequence….."

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TBC

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Thanks for all those out there still reading and reviewing!

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	13. As Fate Allows

Understudy

Author: Cheryl W

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Chapter 13: As Fate Allows

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A marine said it first, "Oh man, Dex, it's good to see you. The whole city thought you were dead." But it was the litany he will hear another dozen times. Everyone thought he was dead. And there are pats on his back, earnest "glad you're alive" smiles and nods from the those more respectful of his personal space.

Honestly, Ronon hadn't expected anyone to care if he were truly dead. He wasn't from their galaxy, hadn't been with the expedition long and had frankly gone out of his way to not make friendly with anyone beside the required interaction with his team. Until Sheppard came along.

He had …changed when this world's John Sheppard was found and joined the team. Became more…himself…his former self. But no, even different than that version of himself for that Ronon hadn't been given back, in some semblance, his best friend. Hadn't realized that stoicism, not speaking what was in his heart and …pretending to not care too deeply… it was a foolish, prideful way to live a life. Left things…unsaid. People not aware of their value…to him. And he would not take this second chance with another John Sheppard and make the same grievous errors.

Suddenly Ronon stopped cold in the middle of his trek back to the jumper. Everyone thought he was dead. Everyone. _John_. John thought he was dead. John who he had pledged he'd always be there for, who had lost so much already, was still tentative on giving his trust to anyone. Who had wanted to stay with Ronon and the other two marines but Ronon had ordered him back to Atlantis. _'And John thought I was killed, that he left me to die, failed me.'_

Unleashing a string of Satadan curses, Ronon stalked for the jumper, ordered them to head back to Atlantis _now_.

Because as much as Ronon didn't think his death would have affected hardly anyone on the expedition, he knew it would mean something to John Sheppard. It would hurt him. No. It would tear Sheppard apart because he would believe he had left Ronon behind to die. That he had added another life to the tally of those who had died because of his mistakes.

'_How did I apologize for a rumor of my death that I didn't start?'_ For meticulously breaking down John's walls so he'd let him in only to …do this to him. Perceivably die on him. Do what too many others had done?!

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Arriving on Atlantis, Ronon practically shoulder checked McKay as he smirked through a "Welcome back from the dead!" cheer because the one person Ronon needed to see…wasn't there. It meant that just because the rumors of his death had been proved wrong, John was still feeling the aftereffects of the what had almost been. What he thought he had almost let happened again.

Breaking into a run, Ronon dodged into a transporter, nearly knocked over two of McKay's lackeys on his exit and then made quick work of the distance to Sheppard's room. He pounded on the door, had even learned McKay's trick to override the lock but only found an empty room greeting his breaking and entering misdemeanor.

John wasn't there.

It was a kick in the gut to guess where he might be. '_My room.'_

And John was there, his back to the door, staring out the window, half packed or unpacked boxes of Ronon's possessions scattered around the room. It was another blow to Ronon to know that John had assigned himself the task of packing up his things, of reverently wiping away all traces that he'd ever been there, from the room, from Atlantis.

Ronon knew how much that undertaking…._hurt._

He had wanted to do it for his own John but he couldn't bear to walk in that room, see John's guitar, his Johnny Cash poster, to know that his best friend was truly gone. Instead Teyla and Rodney had done that honor for John but he knew it cost them part of their hearts in the doing.

'_Just like doing this for me cost this Sheppard pain.'_

It was only fair he honored the gesture, realized the man's pain, begged for forgiveness for the man's unjustified guilt. Even if Ronon had truly died, it wouldn't have been John's fault. He would never want John to carry that guilt. So he said something raw and truthful, something he wouldn't need to say to anyone else, something he wouldn't know needed saying to anyone else.

"I'm sorry, John," sorrow and grief and shame coiled in his soft, broken words. '_Sorry that you thought I was dead, sorry that that hurt you, sorry to put you through another round of grieving and guilt. Sorry that you thought I had broken my promise and left you after all my vows to never do that to you.' _

John's shoulders were shaking and Ronon knew he was crying as his hand came up to cover his face. Because as strong as John was, this one like his own Sheppard, there had been too many deaths in his life, too many people who he had loved that he had lost, failed or who had let him down, too many levels of guilt for anyone to bear indifferently. To pretend it didn't hurt like hell.

It would have been easier for Ronon to keep his distance, to not acknowledge John's pain, certainly not share in it. But after all Sheppard had entrusted him with, all John had restored to him…that he had let him look at him and remember his best friend, ease some of his own devastating guilt for his Sheppard's death. How did you repay someone for patching up your soul? '_While I break more of John's?!_'

It made moving to John's side instinctive, putting a hand on John's shoulder as natural as stepping between a threat and an innocent life. "I didn't mean to put you through that," another apology, another admission, but it felt so useless. You couldn't rewind grief, miraculously wipe away the scars, placate the new fears and the unavoidable reality that '_not this time but it's inevitable'_ because their lives…were not safe ones.

John gave a shaky exhale then stepped back to sit on Ronon's bed, head bent away from his friend, hand wiping away the last vestiges of his grief. John was silent and cut off and wanting Ronon gone and for him not to leave. "I thought I lost you like I lost her," his voice so quiet it was like a sole benediction at a gravesite. Something too pain, too private to let carry on the air, to let anyone but the dead hear what was in his soul.

Ronon knew who John was referring to: the female medic he had gone back for. The rescue mission that had killed twelve people and had forever tainted John's soul with regret and guilt. The best intentions rewarded with the worst outcome. Except John Sheppard had survived and Ronon would never want that outcome to change, was selfish enough to barter away lives to have Sheppard with him right then and there. Even this Sheppard, maybe especially this Sheppard because he knew loss and guilt the likes of which Ronon carried. His own John hadn't bore that weight…couldn't …fully understand Ronon's pain. This John did.

"It almost wasn't a rumor," Ronon confessed, hadn't planned to but they were both soldiers, knew the realities of battles and warfare and sacrifices willingly made for the greater good. Reaching out, he cupped the back of John's neck and tipped his friend toward him until John's head leaned against his own. "But if it had been my time…it wouldn't have been your fault. I ordered you to leave and that's all I needed from you, to follow my orders. The rest…how things turned out… almost turned out, that's on me…not you, John. I need you to tell me you understand that bad things happening, it's not because of you."

John clamped his eyes shut, hoarsely replied, "It feels like it is."

Ronon swallowed down his own emotions at John's misconception that he was a curse, that he heaped down evil on those he dared to care about when Ronon knew it was the direct opposite. "Stack up the numbers of lives you've saved since a Wraith was stupid enough to get on your radar versus the people who don't want you on Atlantis, which is just Kavanagh and he doesn't count. I think even you can do that math."

"Hey, I do math great!" John grumbled, giving Ronon a shove as he straightened up away from the man. Then he shot his friend an assessing, concerned look. "You hurt? You look like crap."

Ronon looked down at himself to note that he was covered in dirt and road dust but was unscathed. "Not a scratch on me."

John didn't dispute Ronon's brag, simply nodded his head. Then they fell silent again.

"I don't have a place here without you," John declared softly a few moments later, eyes on his hands not Ronon. "Sure, McKay and Teyla are outstanding teammates and have been …friendly and welcoming and Dr. Weir's tolerant of me and Colonel Sumner hasn't sent me on any suicide runs lately but…you expect something out of me they don't. Something that no one's wanted from me for….hell…since Afghanistan."

"What's that?" Ronon asked, totally uncertain what that could be.

John looked to Ronon, took the risk to bare more of his soul to the man he thought he had lost a week ago. "My friendship, to get to know me….or the ways I'm the same or different from your own Sheppard. And sure, you like me because I'm a knockoff of him but it's been…" he looked away again and his next words were shaky, "..a _long time_ since anyone's wanted me around for anything other than my skill sets."

An earth saying popped into Ronon's head, said it as his eyes held John's. "Their loss…my gain."

John's lips turned up into a small but earnest smile. "I can live with that.." and then he pointed an accusing finger to Ronon, "and you better live with it too. A freaking **week** before you get back here?! Admit it, you were kicking back with one of those beautiful village women all this time."

"After seeing your ugly mug, they couldn't keep their hands off me," Ronon joked back and then he nudged John's shoulder with his. "And the way you look now…they'd even flock to Kavanagh."

John snorted at the insult. "Nice, hit a guy while he's been busy mourning you."

"Well, stop mourning me and start thinking about feeding me. I'm hitting the shower and then we're ransacking the mess hall," Ronon propositioned, climbing to his feet, ruffling John's unkempt hair before heading toward the shower. Turning at the bathroom doorway, he saw that John hadn't gotten up, was still sitting on his bed, surveying the room.

"John?" Ronon asked, not sure what his friend still needed to hear from him.

"Your stuff…" John began, waving his hand to encompass the boxes, but Ronon interrupted him, "We'll deal with it tomorrow." And there was a promise in that, that they would be there tomorrow, both of them.

John's eyes came up to Ronon's. "Yeah, tomorrow." Because that was the best they could do, plan on a tomorrow and do everything they could to ensure they both saw it. That's what brothers born of war did, they helped each other live to fight another day and another and another. Did it as long as fate allowed them to. And then some time even after that.

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TBC

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Sending out love to all reviewers and silent readers! It's been awhile but hope you enjoyed this albeit short update. I still have at least one more idea pinging in my head for this series but I'm game for thinking up more if you guys still welcome more updates. And hey, if you have some ideas you'd like to see, if it fits into my world view of this universe I might use them. No slash will be considered but I so love bromance and poor Sheppard getting damaged, but not too damaged that his booboos can't be miraculously healed by the end of the chapter.

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


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